


Down the Many Winding Paths

by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink)



Series: Incubus 'Verse [7]
Category: Game Grumps, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A very vague mention of possible attempted suicide, Choking, Choose Your Own Adventure, Collars, Crying, F/M, Hypnotic Voice, Knives, Mild Blood, Nightmares, Non-descript violence against eldritch abominations, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Tentacle Dick, Unusual penis, mutiple orgasms, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 32,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_in_ink/pseuds/Angel%20Ascending
Summary: You come home from a bad date to find an unexpected visitor sitting at your kitchen table. Where the night goes from there, only you can decide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SweetieFiend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetieFiend/gifts).



> This started out as a request from SweetieFiend for some Darkiplier possessive sex. What it turned into (thanks to the A Date with Markiplier video) is this beast of a fic with a bunch of characters and multiple endings. Don't let the total length throw you, a lot of the chapters are really quite short, depending on what path you take. The chapter index button is going to get a workout regardless.
> 
> You don't have to have to have read any of my previous incubus fics to read this technically, but "Dusk and Roses, Clover and Caring" is the first introduction to the world part of this fic can take place in, and "A Drop of Hell, A Touch of Strange," is where we see Incubus Dark for the first time.
> 
> Very special thanks to TheseusInTheMaze for helping me work some of the kinks out in the beginning chapters. <3
> 
> I worked *super* hard on this fic, so I hope you all enjoy it!

You don’t know why you had bothered really. Maybe because you were pretty sure you couldn’t take an incubus home to your Mom for family dinners. Maybe you thought you should try to do what society wanted you to do, get dressed up and find a romantic partner to spend the rest of your life with. Hell, maybe you were just bored. When a nice sounding guy had sent you a message on a dating profile you had forgotten to take down, you decided to take a chance. You had bought a new outfit even, spent over an hour getting ready. You had actually been pretty excited. Too bad the guy had turned out to be a complete asshole.

You should have just walked out after you called him out for being rude to the waiter and he had just laughed it off. You should have left the instant he commented on your choice of entree, saying that he didn’t usually date girls “that enjoyed eating so much.” You had only picked at your food after that, and there had been nothing to distract you from the bullshit coming out of his mouth. You couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise if you had wanted to. When he had finally gotten up to use the restroom you waited until he was out of sight, threw some money on the table and bolted for your car. You had been furious at yourself and the world the whole way home. All you wanted to do was delete asshole’s number from your phone, take a hot bath, drink some wine and go to bed.

You stomp through the door, throwing your keys on the table and flicking on the kitchen light as you kick off your shoes. The light flickers, or maybe the world does, because Dark is standing in the middle of the room, and you know that he wasn’t there before you turned on the light. He’s dressed in a suit and tie, and he looks so damn good in it that you almost forget he shouldn’t even be here at all, you didn’t summon him, hadn’t even thought his name. The look he’s giving you makes you want to run back out the door, and you can feel your heart banging against your ribs.

 ** _“I thought we had something special.”_** Dark’s voice isn’t smooth like it normally is. The tone is rough, the words distorting the air around him, and the sound of it makes your brain feel like it’s being stung by bees. You blink and he’s suddenly closer, inches away from you. You can smell the burnt coffee and clove smell of him. Dark’s eyes blaze red and black, angry burning coals. **_“Haven’t I been giving you everything you wanted?”_**

You back up against the kitchen door, feeling something warm trickle down your upper lip. When you bring a shaking hand up to your face you realize your nose is bleeding.

The fire in Dark’s eyes goes out in an instant, the furious snarl his face had twisted into immediately becoming an expression of concern. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. That’s my fault. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He’s pressing a white handkerchief into your hand and you hold it to your nose as he leads you to a kitchen chair. You sit down and Dark sits across from you, taking your free hand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just don’t understand. Why go out on a date with a complete and utter asshole when you have me? Haven’t I been good to you, all those times you summoned me?” He smiles at you and you feel the familiar thrill of arousal tingle slow in your belly. It’s hard to drag your thoughts to the surface. He knew about the date? And how was he here in the first place? You stare at the bloody handkerchief in your other hand, the nosebleed done as quickly as it had started.

“I can’t help watching you,” Dark says to the question you only thought. You had forgotten he could read your mind. “And your need called me here.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek, and you lean into the touch like a cat. “You need me to remind you that you’re mine, obviously.”

You find yourself nodding, your thoughts buried under a soft wave of arousal, your fear from a moment ago forgotten. Dark smiles at you, eyes bright.

“You don’t need anyone else. I can do anything a human can do, and I can do it better. You want dinner? I can provide that.”

You feel the hitch in reality, a sensation like your brain just blinked, and then there is food on the table, all your favorite things. You look up at him and he smiles, pleased.

“I can do more than that. I can take you wherever you’d like to go.” His smile twists a little. “I can especially take you places you **_don’t_** want to go.”

Reality doesn’t just blink this time, it _screams,_ or maybe that’s you.  You're standing somewhere dark. Not black, black would be the absence of color. The darkness here has colors that you can't describe. Just looking at them makes your stomach twist and your eyeballs ache. You take a deep breath and then another, gasping, the thin air giving you very little in the way of oxygen. You turn around, looking for Dark, looking for _anything_ as your vision starts to gray at the corners. You don’t see Dark. What you do see—

Your mind slides away from what the thing in front of you actually looks or feels like. Vast doesn’t cover it, neither does ancient, or evil, but it is _like_ those things. The longer you look, the more things you know, knowledge that you don’t want and that worms its way into your brain and heart and soul regardless. You know that whatever _this_ is, even though it is sleeping and bound, that its dreams and nightmares still roam the worlds. Someday it will wake up and its eyes will open and all that it looks upon will die and the bonds will break and the Sleeping God will walk—

You’re back in your kitchen, Dark standing in front of you with the same twisted smile he was wearing seconds ago. You’re shaking, tears streaming down your face, and there’s a high pitched sound coming out of you that you don’t seem to be able to stop. Dark slowly tilts his head.

“I keep forgetting how fragile your tiny human mind is. Show it the deep mysteries of the world and it just goes to pieces.” He sighs as if this is all so terribly inconvenient for him. “Still, it’s easy enough to fix.” He tilts your chin up until you’re looking into his eyes, the burning red against the deep black, and for a second it feels like you’re falling, and then—

“Still with me?”

You blink, disoriented. You’re sitting at your kitchen table which is filled with your favorite foods, Dark sitting across from you. There’s this nagging feeling that something was horribly wrong a second ago, but when you try to focus on that thought it just slips away from you. Dark reaches across the table and takes your hand, and that touch alone is enough to make your breath quicken and your skin tingle.

“I was saying that I could take you anywhere that you would like to go. A walk on the beach? Go back to my place? Or would you rather just… stay in?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

_Do you go to the beach? Go to Chapter 3._

_Go to Dark’s place? Go to Chapter 4._

_Stay home? Go to Chapter 2._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 1

Staying in sounds excellent, as does a little stress relief. Dark smiles with entirely too many teeth when you say this, and when you stand up from the table he has you pinned against the wall in seconds.

“I knew you would say that.” His hands roam over your body, one hand sliding under your new blouse and under your bra as the other slides down the waistband of your skirt. “You need me,” he pants in your ear. “You need me to remind you who you belong to, don’t you?”

The sentiment would annoy you in any other context, but you’re so aroused that the words have you moaning within seconds, or maybe you’re moaning because Dark has pushed your underwear aside and is sliding his fingers into you. He pinches your nipple as his thumb circles your clit.

“Always so wet and eager, my little slut. You’re mine, all mine. No one else can make you feel like this.” He crooks his fingers inside you, rubbing at your g-spot and you wail, your legs shaking.

Reality gives another little hitch and suddenly you’re in your bedroom and you’re falling backwards onto the bed, taking Dark with you. He gives your nipple another pinch before withdrawing his hand so that he can brace himself as his other hand moves faster, fingers sliding in and out of you with an obscene sound. He leans over and kisses you, forcing your mouth open with his tongue, breathing in the screams of your orgasm. When he pulls back he looks down at you with six eyes, all burning red and black like coals. He withdraws his hand from you and chuckles when you make a small sound at the sudden emptiness you feel.

“I love the sounds you make for me, all those needy, impatient noises.” His suit is gone in an instant, except for the tie which now hangs loosely around his neck. You feel a sudden chill as your clothes disappear as well, and the tiny part of you that is still capable of rational thought hopes that they wound up back in your closet instead of gone forever. Then you can’t think about anything because the head of his strange and wonderful dick is rubbing at your entrance. You move your hips, trying to urge him on, and he just chuckles, pulling back, teasing you.

“You can’t wait for it, can you? Can’t wait to have me inside you.” Dark holds you down, his cock rubbing up against you but not sliding inside you, not yet. “Beg me. Tell me how badly you need me.”

The words pour out of you like water from a hose and you watch him close his eyes in pleasure, drinking them up. Behind him you can see the shadows in the room darken and shift, slide down the walls and up onto the bed. The velvet and silk of them drag over skin that feels oversensitive and you writhe in pleasure.

“That’s right,” Dark says as he slides so very easily into you. “Only I can make you feel like this.” He begins to thrust and you reach up without thinking, clutching his shoulders, hands running over the scars on his back, running over darkness made into wings, darkness that feels like feathers and makes your hands tingly and numb.

“I’ve told you before, no touching.” Suddenly your hands are above your head and the tie that was around Dark’s neck is around your wrists instead, binding them together.

“You’re **_mine_** , I’m not **_yours._** ” Dark thrusts into you harder, faster. “Only I can make you feel like this. You don’t need anyone else, no human, no demon, no angel can make you feel like I do. Say it. Say my name. Tell the world who you belong to.”

You chant his name like a prayer, scream it with your next orgasm, and the one after that, and the one after that. Eventually you only have strength and voice to whisper it. Eventually you don’t even have that.

You’re a sweaty, undone, leaking mess by the time he finishes with you and you pant, exhausted. You expect him to leave, vanish, melt into the darkness, whatever he does when you’re nearly passed out. Instead he lays down next to you, tracing the lines of sweat on your skin.

“I could mark you,” Dark says idly, tilting his head in thought, all of his eyes blinking. “Put my name all over your skin so everyone knows who you belong to.”

You have no voice left, but you shake your head no, think it as loud as you can.

“Though I suppose that would be too showy. Come across as desperate. Desperation is for humans. Can’t have that.” Dark hums thoughtfully, than places one hand around your throat. Your breath catches and a memory of pleasure flashes through your nerves, all that your body has energy left for. When Dark takes his hand away, there is still the feeling of something there, but in the time it takes you to reach your hand up to it, you’re asleep.

You wake up in the morning alone, groggy and sore and filthy. Stumbling into the bathroom, you lean against the sink and look up into the mirror. Something glitters at your throat, and you reach up to touch it, cool metal against your fingers. Reaching higher up, you’re surprised to find a clasp and you take off the collar which is made of something that makes you think of both leather and silk, and knowing Dark is probably neither of those things. You finger the metal tag on the collar, thumb rubbing over the words.

Property of Dark.

You leave the collar on the sink while you take your shower. As soon as you dry off and get dressed you put it back on and take another look in the mirror. Being owned looks good on you.

**Ending 1- Owned**


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 1

You can’t remember the last time you took a walk on the beach, and it sounds like a wonderful idea to you. Plus, well, knowing Dark you’ll end up doing something more energetic than walking. You do wonder out loud exactly what beach though, and he smiles as he stands up and takes your hand.

“I can take you places that no one else can.”

Dark doesn’t move and neither do you, reality instead moves around you both. For a second there is darkness, then there’s silver light, the sound of waves, the smell of salt. Your feet sink into silver sand as fine and soft as powder as you look around, still tightly gripping Dark’s hand. The sky is full of stars as bright as moonlight, their light reflecting off the ocean and the sand, making everything shine in monochrome. Dark smiles at you, the light sharpening his features and making his eyes look even darker. You shiver, and not from fear.

“I thought you’d like this.” Dark starts to walk, his hand still in yours. Water laps at your bare feet, strangely warm and not at all unpleasant. “The Ocean of Dreams, where all of mankind’s dreams swim. There are nightmares too, of course, down in the depths.” He grins with too many teeth. “Nightmares are so very tasty, if you can catch them. No one talks about that though, the other side of things. They’ll talk about dreams and silver stars, but not what lies beneath and beyond.”

Dark sits down on the sand, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you and whispering in your ear. “There’s a dark side to everything. For every dream, a nightmare swimming in the depths. For every sea of stars, a void beyond. For every angel, well….” He runs one hand softly over your breast, teasing your nipple which hardens under his fingers. You moan softly and feel Dark’s cock growing hard beneath you.

“So sensitive,” Dark chuckles as he pinches your nipple. You stifle a louder moan. You don’t know if there is anyone else around to hear you, but you are outside after all.

“Don’t want anyone to hear you? Hear what a needy slut you are? How easily I can take you apart?” Dark slips a hand under the waistband of your skirt, under your underwear, fingers sliding in your arousal. You can feel yourself blushing, you’re so very wet already.

“I’m going to make you scream for me.” Dark’s fingers slide into you, rubbing against your g-spot. “You’re going to scream my name and everyone is going to know who you belong to.”

You can’t help crying out as his fingers move against you. The feeling is so intense that for a moment you can’t even move, and then you’re shaking like there’s a current moving through you.

“That’s right,” Dark growls in your ear, fingers rubbing harder. “Come apart for me, scream for me, give me what I want.”

You don’t just scream when you come, you full out wail when your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all your muscles clenching, the gush of warm liquid between your legs catching you completely by surprise. You’ve never done that before. You hear Dark laugh as you relax against him, breathless.

“So much for your skirt and my pants. Not that I was planning on you staying in those clothes anyway.” You feel the ocean breeze against your bare skin as your clothes vanish, then Dark moves, pinning you against the sand. He’s naked too, and looks like he does when he’s fed off of your arousal, dark wings spread over you, all six eyes looking down at you. His mention of angels earlier makes you wonder if that was what he is or was, and then the time for thinking is done because Dark’s sliding into you, the ridges of his cock rubbing inside of you in all the best ways. It’s almost too much, and you clutch at the sand beneath your hands in a desperate attempt to hold on to something.

“Scream for me,” Dark pants as he moves against you. “Let everyone know who you belong to.”

You oblige him with every orgasm, screaming his name into the sky as the ocean tides lap at your legs. You’ll be cleaning sand off of and out of you for days. You won’t mind at all.

**Ending 2- Cake by the Ocean**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 1

You admit that you are rather curious about where exactly Dark lives, but you’re not so foolish that you don’t ask a question first.

“No I don’t live in Hell, what kind of question is that?” Dark sounds annoyed, and his smile falters.

You apologize, lowering your eyes, and Dark says something that you don’t quite catch, or maybe you just don’t want to believe he might have said it. He’s smiling when he takes your hand and leads you away from the table, but it looks false.

“C’mon, I don’t want to keep being angry with you all night.”

Reality twists around you. For a second all you can’t see or feel anything, and then you’re someplace else. You wouldn’t need Dark to tell you that you are on some other plane of existence, you can feel it somewhere deep inside you, in your bones or your blood. The feeling isn’t pleasant, but it passes quickly as you look around. You’re on a garden path that’s bathed in silver light that falls from stars hanging in a sky the color of an old bruise, allowing you to see the flowers and shrubbery around you. There are a few scattered lanterns, and you can hear running water as if from some distant fountain. There’s a path under your feet, something like black sand and some other color that your eyes refuse to translate into something relatable and makes you feel a little sick to look at. A glance behind you shows other paths crossing this one, azure and rose, silver and green.

Dark takes a deep breath, sighing, and you watch some of the tension go out of his shoulders, his smile a little easier. “Ahhhh, home sweet home.” He lets go of your hand and starts walking. “I thought you might enjoy the scenic route.”

You would probably enjoy it more except for the fact that Dark walks so fast that it’s a struggle for you to keep up. There’s also the fact that this garden, or at least this part of it, doesn’t seem friendly. The path stings your bare feet, and the flowers are mostly that sick-making color. The air smells sweet, but there’s an undercurrent on the almost chilly breeze of something unpleasant underneath that makes you feel like gagging. You wonder if Dark knows how this place effects humans, if he’s punishing you for going on that date earlier this evening.

You stop for a second to rub at your sore feet, and when you look up, Dark is gone. You look around frantically, limping up to the next branching of paths and looking left and right. You don’t see him down either path, but he must have gone one way or the other.

_Take the left path? Go to Chapter 6_

_Take the right path? Go to Chapter 5_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 4

You’ve barely moved down the right hand path before Dark comes back around the corner, eyes blazing. **_“I thought I lost you.”_** The words burrow under your skin as he grabs your wrist, hard enough to bruise, and begins pulling you along the path. **_“It’s not safe for mortals to be alone in this part of the garden.”_**

You struggle to keep up with Dark’s longer strides, the effort taking so much of your attention that you don’t even see the entryway to his home. One minute you’re stumbling along the path, the next minute your feet are hitting hardwood floor. Dark drops your arm but doesn’t turn around to face you. **_“_** ** _Why are you doing this to me? Why must you make me so angry?”_**

Part of you feels like you should apologize, if only to calm him down. The other part of you is telling you to run while you still can.

_Apologize? Go to Chapter 10_

_Leave? Go to Chapter 8_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 4

You go left, looking around warily, feeling the hair prickle on the back of your neck. It’s a struggle to keep walking. Every instinct is screaming at you to be still, be quiet, not attract attention. You feel like you’re being watched, a mouse in a field with an owl swooping overhead. When something cold and dry wraps around your wrist, you’re too scared to scream, the sound you make more like a squeak. You jerk your arm around, not sure what you’re expecting to see, but a green tentacle with a large blue eyeball on the end certainly isn’t it.

You stare at the large blue eye, and it stares back at you. It’s making a sound, something like a chirp mixed with a meow, a trill that vibrates along your skin. You feel the tension in your muscles relax as you listen and you actually shake a little in relief. A second ago you were ready to run screaming, but now whatever this is seems to be more cute than frightening. You actually reach up with your other hand to stroke it. The skin of the thing feels slippery and cool, like petting a snake.

“Sam?” A voice from around the corner, bright and friendly. “Where’d you get to?”

The person who walks into view looks as bright and friendly as his voice. He has green hair and his eyes, one blue and one green, are as vibrant as the skin of a poison dart frog against the almost monochrome of the garden. You feel your lips start to curve into a smile as the person greets you with a warm and sunny grin.

"Looks like Sam found themself someone pretty to play with. Are they bothering you, miss?" He walks towards you, still smiling, one arm outstretched, practically bouncing. The tentacle eyeball, Sam, uncoils from your arm and hovers in the air for a moment before winding around around their owner's arm and slithering up to wrap themself loosely around his neck, almost hiding the thick and shiny scar that stands out against the pale skin of his throat.

You shake your head no, and the person in front of you grins wider as Sam makes another chirp/purr sound. "Well that's all right then! My name's---"

You watch his lips move, but the sounds you hear are strange, even stranger than Dark's true name. Your left ear hears the rough hiss and pop of static glitched audio, while your right ear hears something bright and sharp, like light bouncing off green glass. You feel a queasy sort of ache in the back of your head, as if your brain were trying to throw up. You wince, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily against the sensation.

“Are you okay?” The stranger’s face is all concern. “You’re human, aren’t you? I didn’t realize. You can call me Jack _*Anti*_ , pleased to meet you!” For a second you hear two voices speaking together again, like vocal layering on a song. Jack sticks out his hand to shake, and you reach for it automatically, telling him your name as you do. His skin feels cool and dry against your own, and you're reminded of how Sam had felt when you petted them.

You realize the shadows are shifting around you seconds before a heavy hand lands on your shoulder and spins you around. All you can see is Dark’s face inches from your own, his red eyes glowing, his lips pulled back in a snarl. “I lose track of you for five minutes and _this_ is where I find you?” He grabs your wrist, hard enough to hurt, and starts pulling you away. “What have I said about touching my things?” Dark calls over his shoulder at Jack.

“Didn’t see your name on her! * _We could carve it on her, if you’d like.*_ ”

You don’t have time to wonder about the second voice you keep hearing, you’re too busy trying to keep up with Dark. You don’t even see the entryway to where he lives, one second you’re stumbling down the path, the next your feet hit hardwood floor. Dark finally stops, back still turned away from you, dropping your arm.

**_“I thought I lost you. Why are you doing this to me? Why must you make me so angry?”_ **

The words pulse in your brain like a migraine and your vision blurs for a second as you take a step back and rub at your wrist, which is already beginning to bruise. Part of you wants to apologize, if only to calm him down, but there’s another part of you that’s telling you to run while you still can.

_Apologize? Go to Chapter 9_

_Leave? Go to chapter 7_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 6

Roughness in the bedroom is one thing, and a certain amount of anger or possessiveness can add some spice if both parties are willing. This is different. Instinct and fear cause you to stumble backwards, out the way you came. You don’t know how you’re going to get home, and you curse yourself as you run for letting Dark take you somewhere where you couldn’t make your own way home. Tears slide down your cheeks as you stumble along the black path, your bare feet aching with every step.

**_“I’m not going to chase you.”_** Dark’s voice is everywhere, surrounding you. **_“You’re going to come crawling back to me, little girl. You’ll be on your knees begging for me.”_**

You force yourself to think about where to go. If you continue along the black path you might run into Jack again. Would he be able to get you home? Or you could go left, back to where the black path had crossed with all the other paths. You don’t know what the colors mean, but they’d have to lead to somewhere better than this, right?

_Continue on the black path? Go to Chapter 15_

_Turn left to where the other paths cross? Go to Chapter 14_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 5

Roughness in the bedroom is one thing, and a certain amount of anger or possessiveness can add some spice if both parties are willing. This is different. Instinct and fear cause you to stumble backwards, out the way you came. You don’t know how you’re going to get home, and you curse yourself as you run for letting Dark take you somewhere where you couldn’t make your own way home. Tears slide down your cheeks as you stumble along the black path, your bare feet aching with every step.

**_“I’m not going to chase you.”_** Dark’s voice is everywhere, surrounding you. **_“You’re going to come crawling back to me, little girl. You’ll be on your knees begging for me.”_**

You force yourself to think about where to go. The black path stings your feet, and Dark himself had said that this part of the garden wasn’t safe for mortals alone. Would any of the other paths you had seen lead you somewhere better? Do you really have any other choice?

You go down the first left hand path, back towards where the black path had crossed with the other paths. There are four different colors to choose from, not that you know where any of them lead. One of them is silver as the starlight shining down on you and seems made of sand. One is the deep green of summer grass, lush and vibrant. The third is blue, a deep blue like the sky above the ocean in summer. The last is rose colored, soft as a sunset against clouds.

_Take the silver path? Go to Chapter 30_

_Take the green path? Go to Chapter 31_

_Take the blue path? Go to Chapter 29_

_Take the rose path? Go to Chapter 22_


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 6

You stammer out an apology, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand, stopping just short of touching Dark, remembering that he doesn’t like being touched unless he initiates it. When he turns around his expression looks almost blank, and you’re not sure that’s better than the anger. He takes your hand, running his fingers gently over the bruises.

“I don’t mean to hurt you. You just inspire all these _feelings._ ” Dark spits out the word as if it were a curse. He raises your wrist to his lips, kissing the bruises. It shouldn’t send tingles of arousal through you, but it does. “Let me make it up to you.”

It’s so easy to nod, to step closer to him.  When he kisses you it's fierce yet oddly gentle. You're used to rough with him, possessive bruising kisses. The gentleness isn't unpleasant, just unnerving, unexpected, makes you feel off balance. When he pulls back from you he's smiling again. "Let me show you around."

Dark's place looks like something out of a architecture magazine, all dark woods and vaulted ceilings. The furnishings are modern, tasteful, and look like they've never been used. The whole place feels like a facade, even the bedroom. Do incubi even sleep? Do they have friends? Guests? Are you the exception or the rule? You'd ask, but you don't want to break Dark's mood, not when everything seems okay again.

You sink into the mattress of the gigantic four poster bed as Dark kisses you so hard that it leaves you shaky and breathless.  Within seconds he’s gotten you out of your clothes (in the normal way) and his (vanished as if they never were) and he’s kissing his way down your neck. You moan and arch up into him, feeling him hard against you.

“Always so impatient,” Dark says with a low chuckle, one hand trailing down until he’s cupping your sex, fingers sliding into you so easily. “Are you going to be a good girl and give me what I want?”

As if you had a choice when Dark’s fingers are moving inside you and the heel of his hand is grinding against your clit. Within seconds you’re gasping and shuddering through what you don’t doubt will be the first of many orgasms of the evening as Dark smirks down at you, pleased.

“It’s nice when you just lay here and do what I want, isn’t it?” Dark says in a conversational tone, breath not even catching as he slides his thick cock so easily into you. He rolls his hips as you clench the sheets in your fists, desperate to hang onto something. Darkness slides over your skin, silk and velvet touches that make you writhe.

When you look up at Dark he looks back down at you with six burning eyes, dark wings stretching out until the tips touch the walls of the bedroom. “You should stay here with me,” he says as he thrusts, as you feel the pleasure singing along your nerves. “There’s nothing for you in your mortal world that I can’t offer you here, no human or angel or demon that can make you feel like I do. Just fear me, love me, do what I say—“ He lapses into some other language, words buzzing along your skin like a tattoo needle, his forehead resting against yours.

Without thinking you reach up and grab onto his shoulders, needing him closer, needing him to ground you. For once he doesn’t comment or move your hands away, not even when your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you clutch at him as if he could save you from drowning. He keeps moving against you and you come again when he finally spends himself inside you. For a moment he smiles, an actual honest smile, not a smirk, not something twisted by sarcasm. Then he’s carefully withdrawing from you, lying next to you as you try to get your breath back and form coherent thoughts again. Had he actually meant what he said? About how you should stay here?

“Of course I meant it,” Dark says when you get up the courage to ask. “What do you say?”

_Say yes? Go to Chapter 11_

_Say no? Go to Chapter 12_


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 5

You stammer out an apology, taking a step forward and reaching out a hand, stopping just short of touching Dark, remembering that he doesn’t like being touched unless he initiates it. When he turns around his expression looks almost blank, and you’re not sure that’s better than the anger. He takes your hand, running his fingers gently over the bruises.

“I don’t mean to hurt you. You just inspire all these _feelings._ ” Dark spits out the word as if it were a curse. He raises your wrist to his lips, kissing the bruises. It shouldn’t send tingles of arousal through you, but it does. “Let me make it up to you.”

It’s so easy to nod, to step closer to him.  When he kisses you it's fierce yet oddly gentle. You're used to rough with him, possessive bruising kisses. The gentleness isn't unpleasant, just unnerving, unexpected, makes you feel off balance. When he pulls back from you he's smiling again. "Let me show you around."

Dark's place looks like something out of a architecture magazine, all dark woods and vaulted ceilings. The furnishings are modern, tasteful, and look like they've never been used. The whole place feels like a facade, even the bedroom. Do incubi even sleep? Do they have friends? Guests? Are you the exception or the rule? You'd ask, but you don't want to break Dark's mood, not when everything seems okay again.

You sink into the mattress of the gigantic four poster bed as Dark kisses you so hard that it leaves you shaky and breathless.  Within seconds he’s gotten you out of your clothes (in the normal way) and his (vanished as if they never were) and he’s kissing his way down your neck. You moan and arch up into him, feeling him hard against you.

“Always so impatient,” Dark says with a low chuckle, one hand trailing down until he’s cupping your sex, fingers sliding into you so easily. “Are you going to be a good girl and give me what I want?”

As if you had a choice when Dark’s fingers are moving inside you and the heel of his hand is grinding against your clit. Within seconds you’re gasping and shuddering through what you don’t doubt will be the first of many orgasms of the evening as Dark smirks down at you, pleased.

“It’s nice when you just lay here and do what I want, isn’t it?” Dark says in a conversational tone, breath not even catching as he slides his thick cock so easily into you. He rolls his hips as you clench the sheets in your fists, desperate to hang onto something. Darkness slides over your skin, silk and velvet touches that make you writhe.

When you look up at Dark he looks back down at you with six burning eyes, dark wings stretching out until the tips touch the walls of the bedroom. “You should stay here with me,” he says as he thrusts, as you feel the pleasure singing along your nerves. “There’s nothing for you in your mortal world that I can’t offer you here, no human or angel or demon that can make you feel like I do. Just fear me, love me, do what I say—“ He lapses into some other language, words buzzing along your skin like a tattoo needle, his forehead resting against yours.

Without thinking you reach up and grab onto his shoulders, needing him closer, needing him to ground you. For once he doesn’t comment or move your hands away, not even when your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you clutch at him as if he could save you from drowning. He keeps moving against you and you come again when he finally spends himself inside you. For a moment he smiles, an actual honest smile, not a smirk, not something twisted by sarcasm. Then he’s carefully withdrawing from you, lying next to you as you try to get your breath back and form coherent thoughts again. Had he actually meant what he said? About how you should stay here?

“Of course I meant it,” Dark says when you get up the courage to ask. “What do you say?”

_Stay? Go to Chapter 11_

_Say No? Go to Chapter 13_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 10

You don’t think about the friends that would miss you, or what family might mourn you, not now, not with Dark looking at you and the memories of pleasure still warm on your skin like honey. There’s plenty of things about your own world that you’d be glad to leave behind, and who wouldn’t jump at the chance to live somewhere else, to be cared for?

You know Dark knows your answer from the look on his face, but you say it out loud anyway. He grins with too many teeth, the red of his eyes smoldering coals.

“I’ll finally have you all to myself. Forever.” Dark cups your cheek and you lean into the touch. Even as you smile, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.

**Ending 3-Kept**


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 9

You give Dark’s proposition some thought as you clean yourself up in his immaculate bathroom and put your clothes back on. Your world isn’t perfect, but there are things you’d miss, family, friends. Hell, someday you might even want to have a family, you’re not sure. That’s what it all boils down to really. You’re not sure.

That’s what you tell Dark, when you emerge from the bathroom, that you’d like some time to think about it, and that you’d like to go home now.

“What’s to think about?” The room gets darker, you swear it does, and Dark’s voice is like a dead thing in his throat. This isn’t the Dark of a few minutes ago, all smiles and soft touches. This isn’t the Dark that cares for you. “It’s a yes or no question, and I’m only going to ask it once. So yes? Or no?”

It’s the ultimatum that decides you. You might have said yes to him, given time to think, but now the answer is no, hard and firm in your mouth.

“I see. After all I’ve done for you.” The words are cold and the room grows darker still. All you can see are the burning red of his eyes and his teeth shining white in the darkness. “How do you think you’re getting home, without me?”

You feel your stomach drop as all the blood rushes from your face. He’s right, you have no idea how to get home, no way back. His eyes are closer now, his smile wider.

“I could just keep you here. You’d like it, after a while. I could **make** you like it.”

You don’t think, you just run, nearly blind in the darkness, from the tears suddenly streaming down your face. You barely feel it when your shoulder collides with the doorframe, when your shin smacks against the corner of a coffee table. You’re a rabbit running from a hawk, looking for a hole to hide in.

**_“I’m not going to chase you.”_** The voice comes out of the darkness, surrounds you. You head for what you think you remember as the room you came in. You hadn’t gone through a door, but there had to be one, right? A way out?

**_“You’re going to come crawling back to me, on your knees.”_** The darkness laughs. **_“I can wait.”_**

Between one step and the next you’re outside again, feet stinging as they land back on the black path. You run, desperately trying to think about what to do next. If you keep going straight, you might run into Jack again. Maybe he could get you home? If you go left though, that would bring you to the other paths you had seen. You don’t know what the colors mean or where they lead, but it’d be better than where you are right now, right?

_Go straight towards where you saw Jack last? Go to Chapter 15_

_Go left to the other paths? Go to Chapter 14_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 10

You give Dark’s proposition some thought as you clean yourself up in his immaculate bathroom and put your clothes back on. Your world isn’t perfect, but there are things you’d miss, family, friends. Hell, someday you might even want to have a family, you’re not sure. That’s what it all boils down to really. You’re not sure.

That’s what you tell Dark, when you emerge from the bathroom, that you’d like some time to think about it, and that you’d like to go home now.

“What’s to think about?” The room gets darker, you swear it does, and Dark’s voice is like a dead thing in his throat. This isn’t the Dark of a few minutes ago, all smiles and soft touches. This isn’t the Dark that cares for you. “It’s a yes or no question, and I’m only going to ask it once. So yes? Or no?”

It’s the ultimatum that decides you. You might have said yes to him, given time to think, but now the answer is no, hard and firm in your mouth.

“I see. After all I’ve done for you.” The words are cold and the room grows darker still. All you can see are the burning red of his eyes and his teeth shining white in the darkness. “How do you think you’re getting home, without me?”

You feel your stomach drop as all the blood rushes from your face. He’s right, you have no idea how to get home, no way back. His eyes are closer now, his smile wider.

“I could just keep you here. You’d like it, after a while. I could make you like it.”

You don’t think, you just run, nearly blind in the darkness, from the tears suddenly streaming down your face. You barely feel it when your shoulder collides with the doorframe, when your shin smacks against the corner of a coffee table. You’re a rabbit running from a hawk, looking for a hole to hide in.

 ** _“I’m not going to chase you.”_** The voice comes out of the darkness, surrounds you. You head for what you think you remember as the room you came in. You hadn’t gone through a door, but there had to be one, right? A way out?

 ** _“You’re going to come crawling back to me, on your knees.”_** The darkness laughs. **_“I can wait.”_**

Between one step and the next you’re outside again, feet stinging as they land back on the black path. You run, desperately trying to get back to the other paths you had seen. You don’t know what the colors mean or where the paths go, but they have to be better than where you are now, right?

The paths cross in front of you, four different colors to choose from, not that you know where any of them lead. One of them is silver as the starlight shining down on you and seems made of sand. One is the deep green of summer grass, lush and vibrant. The third is blue, a deep blue like the sky above the ocean in summer. The last is rose colored, soft as a sunset against clouds.

_Take the silver path? Go to Chapter 30_

_Take the green path? Go to Chapter 31_

_Take the blue path? Go to Chapter 29_

_Take the rose path? Go to Chapter 22_


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapters 7 or 12

The paths cross in front of you, four different colors to choose from, not that you know where any of them lead. One of them is silver as the starlight shining down on you and seems made of sand. One is the deep green of summer grass, lush and vibrant. The third is blue, a deep blue like the sky above the ocean in summer. The last is rose colored, soft as a sunset against clouds.

_Take the silver path? Go to Chapter 30_

_Take the green path? Go to Chapter 31_

_Take the blue path? Go to Chapter 29_

_Take the rose path? Go to Chapter 22_


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 7 or 12

You run, even though Dark said he wasn’t going to chase you, the black path stinging your bare feet. Your eyes are bleary from tears and exhaustion, so you don’t see Jack as much as you literally run into him. You give a weak and breathy sort of scream, and then he’s holding you close. He smells green, like a field in summer, but there’s an undertone of something else, copper and shadows.

“It’s okay, it’s just me! Didn’t expect to be seeing you again. That bastard hurt you?”

You start to tell him what happened when a high pitched howl shatters the relative silence of the garden. A second later there’s an answering howl, then another, the another. Jack says something that you assume is a swear, based on the tone of it. “It’s not safe for us out here right now. We should get moving.”

* _We could give her to the pack. Or you could let me out and I could take care of them. It’s been so long since I’ve been out._ *

You’re watching Jack closely this time when the second voice speaks. It’s like watching a movie with badly synched audio, Jack’s lips moving just a second or two behind the crackling static of his voice.

“I’m not going to do either of those things, Anti, so just shut the hell up, okay? You’re scaring the girl.”

There’s a crackling hiss pop of a chuckle. * _She should be scared._ *

Jack sighs, running a hand through the bright green of his hair. “Sorry about him, he gets chatty when I’m hungry. I’ve got him under control though, don’t worry.” He reaches for your hand and you take it hesitantly, full of questions.

“I’ll explain once we’re somewhere a little bit safer, I promise. Right now though we might want to start walking.”

There’s another howl, closer this time.

“Or running. We might want to start running. Definitely running.”

You find yourself being pulled along for the second time that night, but this time it’s worse. Your feet are swollen agony, you’re so tired you can barely see straight, and there’s something behind you. You can hear its panting breath, feel the ground tremble when it runs. You’re being hunted.

You tripping is inevitable, like a trope in a bad horror movie. You fall badly in spite of your effort to catch yourself, and by the time you roll over there is *something* standing above you. The closest thing your brain supplies is a wolf, but there have been no wolves this large, or with that many mouths, or with so many eyes. Its fur is that sickening color that your eyes can’t process, and saliva drips from its jaws and foams on the path. You close your eyes so you don’t have to see your own death coming toward you.

Something whistles over your head, and there’s a wet sounding noise followed by a howl that nearly deafens you. You look up to see a knife imbedded in one of the wolf thing’s many eyes and you turn your head back up the path.

The person standing there looks like Jack still, but you know it’s not. There’s something about the body language, the posture, more confident and aggressive.It’s the other one, the one Jack called Anti. Their one green eye is blazing like something radioactive, and they’re holding two knives in their hands, grinning savagely. * _C’mon pup!_ * Anti’s voice is full of gleeful malice. * _Let’s see what you’ve got!_ *

The wolf thing leaps over you, snarling. You hear sounds behind you, whimpers and growls mixed with Anti’s taunts. You manage to stand back up, swaying on your feet, shaking and cold. You’re probably in shock, but the thought seems distant, like someone else is thinking it. You only turn around when the sounds of the fight cease, and you hear the soft crunch of feet on the path.

Anti’s covered in blood that looks black in the starlight, his smile almost blinding when he looks at you, one knife still in his hand. _*Now what are we going to do with you, hmmm? I could have so much fun with you. I bet you’d scream so sweetly.”_

You should run. You know you should run, at least try to get away, but it’s like your brain is too tired to make the rest of your body move. As you watch, Anti’s face twists, the green eye fading, the blue flaring brightly. “You’ve had your fun, Anti, it’s time to go back.” Jack’s voice, strained but adamant.

* _I was just getting started._ * Anti’s voice sounds softer, a murmur of static. The green eye flickers like a dying coal. * _I know you want her, Jack. We could both have her. It’d be fun.*_

“Shut it.” Jack’s voice is firm, and as you watch the green eye fades back to a more mundane shade of green, and the knife flickers and disappears. Jack looks down at himself and makes a disgusted face, trying to find a bit of clothing that isn’t covered in blood to wipe his hands on. “I’m sorry,” he says to you. “It was the only thing I could think of, to protect you. He’ll be quieter now. He’s always quiet after he’s had his fun.” He holds out a relatively clean hand towards you. “I won’t blame you if you’d rather take your chances out there, but you’d be safer with me, I swear. I won’t let him hurt you.”

There’s another howl in the distance, but it doesn’t sound that close by. You could probably make it back to where you started, where the other colored paths crossed with the black one. Or you could trust Jack.

_Trust Jack? Go to Chapter 17._

_Go back to the paths? Go to Chapter 16._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 15

You take a step backward, then another. You watch Jack’s shoulders slump, his face full of resignation and sorrow. He drops his hand.

“I get it. Word of advice, if you’re looking for a way home? Rose path’s your best bet, nothing bad can get that close to the Center. May the gods guide your feet and guard your path.” He turns away, but not before you see a tear fall from his blue eye and trail through the blood on the left side of his face.

You walk back to where the paths intersect, exhaustion slowing your steps. There are four different colors to choose from, not that you know where any of them lead. One of them is silver as the starlight shining down on you and seems made of sand. One is the deep green of summer grass, lush and vibrant. The third is blue, a deep blue like the sky above the ocean in summer. The last is rose colored, soft as a sunset against clouds.

_Take the silver path? Go to Chapter 30_

_Take the green path? Go to Chapter 31_

_Take the blue path? Go to Chapter 29_

_Take the rose path? Go to Chapter 22_


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 15

You take Jack’s offered hand and his whole face lights up. It’d be cute if he wasn’t covered in blood. You wonder if you’ve made a horrible mistake, but you’re nearly too tired to care. You still feel cold, shivers wracking your body, and you’re afraid if you open your mouth you’re going to start hysterically giggling or screaming. Everything hurts.

“You look near done in,” Jack says. “I’d carry you, but I’m rather a mess at the moment. Think you can walk for another few minutes?”

You nod and shuffle along next to him, stepping around the body of the whatever it is that Anti had killed.

“Hate those damn things,” Jack mutters as you walk past it. “Too close to the Void out this way, get all sorts of shit slipping through. Dreams of the Sleeping God.”

For a second you get a weird feeling of deja vu, a sense of dread settling in the pit of your stomach. The feeling it leaves behind just further reinforces how far away from home you are. You don’t even know what this place is called. When you ask Jack, he makes an irritated sound, and you flinch until you realize that the irritation isn’t aimed at you.

“Dark didn’t even tell you that? Figures.” He makes a sweeping gesture with the hand that isn’t holding yours. “These are the Gardens of Eternal Dusk, in what humans call the Land of Dreams. You can call it  Hypnagogia if you want to be fancy about it, but it’s a hell of a mouthful. Specifically, you’re on the black path, which is dangerous as shit for anything mortal, as you’ve probably figured out by now. Not hardly safe for anyone really. But enough about that, we’re here! Home sweet home!”

All you see in front of you is a crumbling stone archway overgrown with moss, a few flowering vines growing up the length of it putting forth flowers of neon blue and poisonous green. Jack tugs on your hand gently and together you step through the arch. Immediately your surroundings change, ground giving way to wood floors. You’re in an old country cabin, cozy, rustic, and immediately welcoming. Jack leads you to a well worn couch near a stone fireplace, which lights itself when he walks past it. He takes an old patchwork quilt from the back of the couch and drapes it around your shoulders. “There you go, all nice and cozy. I’m gonna put water on for tea and get cleaned up and then we can have a little chat.” His eyes are bright and the words nearly trip over themselves in a rush to escape.

You lean back on the couch as Jack heads into another room, listening to the sounds of running water and various clinking and rustlings with half an ear. A familiar purring chirp noise draws your attention as Sam comes out from wherever they had been hiding and wriggles into your lap. You stroke them absent-mindedly, feeling the tenseness in your muscles start to ease and a tiny smile quirk up the corners of your mouth. Suddenly everything doesn’t feel quite so awful.

“Sam’s great, aren’t they?” Jack comes back into view holding a teapot in one hand two empty mugs in the other, setting everything down on the coffee table in front of you before sitting down in an old worn armchair across from you. “Like, no matter how bad you’re feeling, you feel better when they’re around. Found them out in the Garden one day and they’ve stuck with me ever since. Not sure where they came from originally, just know they’re probably not a Void critter. Nothing good comes out of the Void.”

Jack pours the tea and you hold the mug in your hands for a minute, taking comfort in the heat of it, breathing in the steam.

“Sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat at the moment, I don’t get a lot of company that goes in for, like, physical food. Some of us indulge while we’re working, I know more than a few incubi who are downright sugar fiends.”

That does raise the question neatly, so you ask it.

“Yeah, I’m an incubus. Not surprised you couldn’t tell. Most of us give off this like, aura of sexiness that makes humans more receptive to us, if they were inclined to lean in that direction to begin with. Me? I just come off as super likable and friendly, not like that’s a bad thing! It just makes finding my own food between summons a little harder, that’s all, which is a big deal. It takes so much energy to keep Anti quiet.” He runs his hands through his hair before sighing and picking up his mug of tea and taking a long drink from it. “He gestures towards your mug of tea. “You might want to drink some of that before it gets cold. It’s not poisoned or drugged or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’d never do that, and it’s not Anti’s style.”

_*Knives_ * Anti whispers in a soft hiss of static. He doesn’t say anything else.

You trust Jack. Maybe it’s the aura of friendliness or whatever he was talking about, but you’d like to think you’re not the worst judge of character. Then again, there was the whole thing with Dark. You take a sip of your tea. It tastes bright and soothing all at once, something like mint and ginger and lemon, the best parts of all those flavors but heightened somehow. You take another sip and feel warmth spreading through you, easing all your aches. You sigh audibly in relief and Jack grins.

“Good, right? It’s the angel tears that does it, makes everything taste better, fixes you up if you’re not in too bad of a way. I’m luckier in my friends than I have any right to be, I get them fresh every few weeks. Helps with my problem.” Jack looks at you, face serious now.

“I guess I should explain about Anti. He’s… I don’t know what he is really, or where he came from. Incubi and succubi, we get around, and there’s a lot of things between worlds and on other worlds that are basically invisible and love to hitch rides on people like us. One night I came home from… seeing someone, and there was this voice in my head telling me to hurt people. Back then it sounded like my own voice, like my own thoughts. I didn’t act on those thoughts, of course, and the voice just kept getting louder. I started dreaming about hurting people, killing them. Then one morning I woke up all covered in blood. I… I still don’t know what happened, who I….”

Jack’s hands start to shake, tea sloshing over the side of the mug. Sam makes a concerned sounding noise and floats out of your lap and into Jack’s, doing their weird purr. Their one long tentacle splits into many and Sam pets Jack’s arms until the trembling stops. Jack sighs and visibly relaxes. “Thanks, Sam. Anyway, after that I was a wreck. I moved to this part of the Garden because it was far away from anyone I cared about, stopped eating, stopped sleeping, which only made everything worse. Then one night I did… something.”

Jack rubs at his throat where the long scar is. “At least, I think it was me, I can’t remember and Anti won’t say anything about it. Remember how I said I was lucky in my friends? If anyone but—“ Jack says a name and it sounds like a windstorm breaking a stained glass window, “had come to find out what was going on with me, hadn’t healed me up like only an angel can, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He was the one who told me that there was something attached to my soul, something wound up too tight to get rid of. But just knowing that it wasn’t _me_ thinking and doing those horrible things was a relief. There were things I could do to keep him contained, keep him quiet. Most of the time they work.”

Jack puts down his cup of tea and places his hands over yours. “And I’m telling you all this because I’m offering you a place to rest before we figure out how to get you home, if that’s what you want to do. But you need to know there’s a chance that you might be in danger here, from the thing that lives inside me. If you don’t want to take that chance, I’ll understand, really. But if you trust me to keep you safe, you can at least get a decent sleep, in a proper bed.”

You look down into your mug of tea, weighing your options.

_Have a nap? Continue to Chapter 18._

_Just work on trying to get home? Go to Chapter 19._


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 17

You’re so tired, it’s been such a long night, and it’d be nice to get some sort of rest. You believe Jack when he says he’ll keep you safe, though you might believe anything for the promise of a warm bed at this point. Jack just smiles when you say this and gets up.

“I’ll just go clean it up a little for you, be right back!” The expression on his face is so open and eager that you have to smile. You drink the rest of your tea and lean back against the couch, sighing. Honestly, you could fall asleep right here. You’re halfway dozing when Jack comes back to tell you everything’s all set and you shuffle into the bedroom with the quilt still wrapped around you.

The bedroom looks more modern than the rest of what you’ve seen of the place, and is actually lit by electric lights. By the foot of the bed there’s a television surrounded by several gaming consoles and piles of video games, something so normal during a night where nearly nothing has been. The bed is ridiculously soft, and you crawl under the covers and sink into it with a contented sigh.

Jack picks up the quilt you abandoned. “I’ll be in the other room, if you need anything, okay? Sam? You want to keep her company?”

Sam’s under the covers snuggling you so fast that you wonder if they can teleport. Jack just chuckles. “They really like you.” Jack turns to go and suddenly you think of a question that you feel you really should have asked before.

“Nah, Dark can’t get you here,” Jack says when you ask. “He’s more powerful than he has any right to be, but this is still my space and he’s not invited in.”

Satisfied with that answer, you close your eyes, asleep before Jack even has time to shut the door.

_Flip a coin._

_Heads, skip to Chapter 20._

_Tails, skip to Chapter 21._


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 17

You imagine falling asleep here, waking up with Anti crouched over you, a knife at your throat, and you shiver. You see in Jack’s face that he’s guessed what you’re thinking of, but he waits until you actually give your answer before nodding and clapping his hands together once.

“All right, no worries. Let’s see what I can do for you. First things first. On your world, did you have to summon Dark or did he just show up?”

You’d summoned him, the names and ritual given to you by a friend who had been tired of hearing about your various sexual frustrations. You were only going to do it just that once, but one time had turned into many. The last time though, you hadn’t summoned him at all, hadn’t even thought his name. When you tell Jack all this he sighs.

“I was really hoping this was going to be simple, you know? Just drop you off at your house easy as anything. Some worlds don’t keep us out, for whatever reason, and we can come and go as we please. That’s how most of us survive, hunting on those types of worlds. Your world sounds like the other kind, the kind that actively keeps us out unless we’re invited through a ritual of some sort. There are ways around that restriction, if you have the power for it. I don’t, not right now. It’s been long enough since I’ve last eaten that I have to save my strength, as it were.”

You nod, taking another sip of tea and trying to hide the disappointment on your face. How are you going to get home?

“Don’t worry, just because I can’t take you home doesn’t mean I can’t get you to someone who can. I have a friend who’s an angel, remember? They can go damn near anywhere. That’s how Dark was able to get into your house without you summoning him.”

You nearly choke on your tea and you put the mug on the coffee table before you drop it. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought Dark looked like a fallen angel while he was feeding, all dark wings and extra eyes, but there was a difference between thinking something and knowing it. All this time you’d been having honest to gods sex with some sort of angel.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I forget humans don’t know as much about that kind of thing as we do. Yeah, he’ll deny it if you ask him, but Dark’s got angel blood in him somewhere. My friend looks just like him, actually, so don’t be scared when you meet him, okay? He’s a real sweetheart, unlike his twin or his other half or whatever he is. So lets see if I can find you some shoes that fit and you can go pay him a visit.”

You finish your tea while Jack finds you shoes and in no time at all you’re both walking along the black path again. At least this time you don’t hear the howling of nightmare wolves or whatever those things were. It’s an almost peaceful walk really, now that it doesn’t feel like you’re walking on burning hot sand. Nothing hurts anymore, not even the wrist Dark had grabbed. The once purple bruises were now only a faint yellow green, almost gone, probably from the angel tears in the tea.

Jack catches you rubbing at your wrist. “Dark give you those?”

You nod, and Jack just shakes his head. “You’re lucky, you know? Most people he fixates on and brings here, they don’t get away so lightly. He calls it love, what he does to them. If you’re really lucky, he’ll forget about you, find someone else. If you’re not, he’ll be after you again once he’s done sulking. When you get back home, you take whatever precautions you can to be safe, okay?”

You nod again, and that’s the last Jack says on the subject of Dark. Soon enough you’re back where your night here started, at the intersection of paths.

“This is as far as I can go,” Jack says. “I can’t walk the rose path, but neither can anything that might want to hurt you, so you’ll be safe enough. You’re looking for an arch with climbing roses the color of the sky, that’s where you’ll find him, he’ll help you out.” Jack pauses, and you swear he’s blushing, just a little. “I don’t suppose we’ll be seeing each other again. Would it be okay if I hug you?”

You smile just a little and nod, opening your arms to him. He hugs you tight for a long moment and then lets you go, smiling, his eyes glistening. “Best of luck to you. May the gods guide your feet and guard your path.”

You turn quickly and set foot on the rose path, tears filling your eyes but not spilling over. Jack seemed like a nice guy stuck with a bad situation, and you hope things get better for him some day.

Your surroundings change the instant you start down the rose path. The sky above you still has stars in it, but the color of the sky has changed from near almost darkness to the pinks and oranges of sunset. It’s warmer as well, like early summer, and the mild breeze carries the sweet scent of flowers with it. It’s so peaceful, you’re nearly tempted to just curl up on one of the benches that line the path and take a nap. Somehow you keep moving, and when you finally find a wooden archway with orange pink roses trailing up it you stand there for a moment, swaying with exhaustion. Beyond the arch there is only a clearing with a few flowering trees, and nothing happens when you walk through the space under the arch.

You think back to the name Jack had said, try to replicate it as best as you can with human vocal chords. When nothing happens you have to resist the urge to sit down on the ground and have a cry. It’s been a long night (you wonder if day is even a concept on this world) and you’re emotionally exhausted on top of everything else. Maybe he’s not home? What do angels do in their spare time?

“Well mostly I help people,” a voice says from behind you. “Though sometimes I go to one of your Earths just for the sunlight. And the food! Don’t get me started on food.”

You squeak in surprise as you turn around, grabbing onto the archway in surprise and shock. You have to resist the urge to fall to your knees or run away, and you’re glad Jack told you that this angel looked like Dark so you were at least a little prepared. His eyes are black and gold, and his wings are feathery, white shading to gray shading to black at the tips, but otherwise he could be Dark’s twin. You’re so focused on staring at him that you don’t notice that when you grabbed onto the archway that you also grabbed a rose vine until the angel leans forward and untangles your bleeding hand from the thorns.

“Be not afraid. That’s what angels are supposed to say, right? I read that somewhere. And call me Mark, it’s much easier for humans to pronounce.” Mark leans down and kisses the palm of your hand. You actually feel the flesh knitting back together and when he pulls away the skin is completely healed. Even the bruises on your wrist are fading. Mark frowns as he watches them disappear. “Someone get rough with you? Are you okay?”

You don’t mean to tell him everything all at once, but it comes out in a flood of words as you stare into those dark golden eyes. When you’re done Mark takes both your hands and sighs heavily. “I’m sorry for what he did to you.” He says it like he had something to do with it, like it was his fault. When you try to tell him that it wasn’t, he just shakes his head.

“The very first memories I have are of Dark standing over me. Thanking me.I don’t know why he looks like me, but I think it’s my fault he’s here, somehow. All the good I try to do is to make up for whatever he does. I apologize because he never will.” Mark shakes his head. “But that’s my burden to bear, not yours. You just want to go home.”

There’s no transition. One moment you’re standing in a garden in a world of dreams, the next you’re in your kitchen again. It seems like a lifetime ago since you had seen it last.

“There you go, safe and sound.” Mark leans forward and gives your forehead a quick kiss. The air around you shimmers golden for a moment, then fades. “Dark won’t bother you again, I promise. And if you ever need someone to talk to, just think about me, I’ll be there.”

You have a thought you shouldn’t be having, but you’re tired and giddy with the fact that you’re home and the question comes out anyway.

Mark blushes and rubs the back of his neck. “Ummm, well, I guess I’ll try anything once.” Then he’s gone in a rustle of feathers.

You groan and put your head in your hands. You’re probably going to a very special hell.

**Ending 4- Home Sweet Home**


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 18

You wake up slowly, and for a moment you don’t remember where you are. There’s something curled against you, purring, and you’re in a bed you’re not familiar with. Then the sleep fog clears, memories coming back to you in a rush, and you sit up in bed, propping yourself against a mountain of pillows. Sam emerges from under the covers only to curl back up next to you, still purring. You wonder how they can purr without a mouth.

There’s a knock on the door, Jack calling your name in the cheerful tones that you associate with morning people. “Are you awake? Did you sleep well? I have breakfast!”

Your stomach growls and you suddenly remember that you hadn’t eaten anything since that horrible date which was who knew how long ago now. You also remember Jack not having any food in the house. Did he go shopping while you slept? Jack opens the door when you say you’re awake, and he comes in with a tray of food, eggs and potatoes and bacon and beans and what looks like several kinds of sausage. There’s also two mugs of tea. Jack deposits the tray in your lap with a grin and takes one of the mugs. “I hope you like it, I’m kinda out of practice with the whole cooking thing. It’s been awhile.”

You assure him it’s fantastic in between bites, and you’re not lying. His smile gets even wider, if that’s possible. “Thanks! There was a guy I used to, well, feed off of, no use sugar coating it. He used to make this kind of thing for breakfast all the time. He taught me how to cook, which came in handy later, once he started feeling poorly, because then I could make breakfast for him. He was a sweetheart, no question. Nearly broke my heart when he died, but that’s what happens when you get attached to humans. Still, gave me a lot of great memories. Even modeled this place after his, a little, something to remember him by.”

You put a hand on his, offering condolences, and Jack squeezes it. “No worries, it was a long time ago. Before, well, you know.”

_*Me.*_ Anti chimes in. Jack grimaces and starts drinking his tea.

“Sorry, just ignore him. I didn’t sleep, was afraid I’d wake up and _he’d_ be the one in control, you know?”

Now you notice the dark circles under Jack’s eyes and you apologize for putting Jack through so much just for your sake. He only shakes his head. “No need for that. It’s nice, having company. And what else was I supposed to do, leave you to fend for yourself out there? I’m not strong enough to try and rescue anyone Dark brings here when they’re in his own place, but I’ll be damned if I don’t do what I can for the ones who get away.”

* _I’m strong enough_ ,* Anti hisses. * _Stronger than you. I could take him on.*_

Jack snorts with contempt. “I don’t even want to think about the damage you two could do together.”

You don’t want to think about it either. You focus on finishing breakfast, settling back into the pillows with a contented sigh when you finish, nursing your mug of tea. Jack takes the dishes away, and when he sits back on the bed his expression is a little more serious. “All right, down to business, getting you back home all safe and sound. First question. On your world, did you have to summon Dark or did he just show up?”

You had summoned him, initially, a friend who knew about such things giving you the summoning name after getting fed up of hearing about your sexual frustrations. The first time had turned into several times, up until last night. Last night you hadn’t summoned him at all, hadn’t even thought his name. When you tell Jack all this, he mutters something that you assume is a swear, running his hands through his hair.

“I was hoping this was going to be easy, just pop over to your place and drop you off as neat as you please. Should’ve known luck was going to run that way. Some worlds can’t keep us out and we can just come and go as we please. That’s how a lot of us survive, hunting on worlds like that. Your world though, you’re one of those places where things like us can’t get in unless we’re summoned somehow. There are ways around that restriction, if you have the power for it. You summoned Dark enough that the path was an easy one for him to walk. Well, that and he’s angel blooded and that gives him more power than any of us should have.”

You almost spit out a mouthful of tea in surprise, then set the mug down when your hands start to shake. Next to you, Sam purrs and pets your arm until the shaking stops. You had thought Dark looked kind of like a fallen angel during sex, what with the wings and the extra eyes, but thinking something and actually knowing it are two different things.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jack says, looking genuinely distressed. “I forgot most humans can’t tell that sort of thing. Yeah, he’ll deny it if you ask him, but Dark’s got angel blood or something in him somewhere. I know an angel who looks just like him, in fact, but that’s not important right now. What it boils down to, is that I can’t personally get you home. Even though having you with me would help, I don’t have the energy to get to your world without being summoned there. I’m sorry.”

_*You’d have enough energy if she fucked you.*_ Anti’s voice crackles and pops uncomfortably in your ears. _*Don’t say you’re not thinking it, Jack, it’s the loudest thought in your head.*_

Jack’s face turns purple in both anger and embarrassment. “Just because I was thinking it doesn’t mean I was going to say it! Fuck, that’d be coercion or creepy or some other word that probably begins with the letter c.” Jack takes your hands. “There are plenty of ways to get you home, okay? I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

You turn the thought over in your head, examining it. On one hand, you genuinely like Jack, and you’d be getting both an orgasm and a way home out of the deal, and Jack would be getting a meal. On the other hand though, maybe you’ve had enough sex with incubi to last you awhile, and maybe you don’t want to do it just because Anti was the one who brought it up.

_Sexy times with Jack? Skip to Chapter 24_

_Find another way home? Skip to Chapter 23_


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 18

You wake up to the hiss of static, the light of the television throwing shadows on the wall. You blink, disoriented, and then there’s a sudden weight on your chest, a figure blocking out the light, a knife at your throat. You’re too frightened even to scream, and you feel the prick of the knife’s edge against your throat when you swallow in fear. Above you, Anti’s green eye burns brightly, and you swear his teeth, suddenly sharp, glow when he smiles down at you.

*J _ack tried so hard to keep me quiet_ ,* Anti says, his voice crackling. * _He really likes you, you know that? He’s screaming at me right now, begging me not to hurt you. That just makes this even more fun._ * You feel the sting of the knife and the trickle of blood sliding down your throat and you whimper as you watch Anti lick the blood from the blade. _*Your fear tastes so good, it’s a wonder Dark ever let you go. His loss.*_

You try to wiggle out from underneath Anti only to have his hand reach out and close around your throat, squeezing hard. You panic and try to buck him off you, and he just laughs that static pop of a laugh. * _Is that how you like it? The pain? The danger? That’s what gets you hot, isn’t it? We are going to have such a good time together, you and I.*_

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe and you’re probably going to die in this bed and it’s going to be a relief after what Anti is going to do to you. Your vision is already starting to go gray and you try with the last of your panicked strength to claw his hand off of you throat but it’s no use. Anti laughs again, only to suddenly scream, a high pitched sound like the feedback whine of a microphone and you can breathe again and Anti’s weight is gone from your chest. You scramble out of the bed, coughing and gasping, tears of fear and pain sliding down your cheeks.

In the light of the television static you can see Sam’s attached himself to Anti’s face, more tentacles than you’ve ever seen them have before writhing frantically. Anti brings up the knife to try and slash at Sam only to have a tentacle grab his wrist.

“Go!” It’s Jack’s voice, muffled but clear enough. “Head for the rose path, you’ll be safe there!”

You take a step backwards towards the door, wishing you could help, wishing you were strong enough. Anti gives a static filled roar and rips Sam off his face and arm with surprising strength, throwing them across the room. Sam hits the wall and falls out of sight. Anti’s green eye flares up, Jack’s blue eye dims.

* _Stop fighting me, Jack. You want her too, don’t pretend that you don’t.*_

Anti takes a step towards you, but it’s like he’s moving through mud, something slowing his steps. As you watch, Anti’s right hand, the hand with the knife, slowly rises, but it’s not aimed at you.

“Go,” you hear Jack say softly as the hand with the knife trembles. His body lurches forward a half step towards you. “Please, just go. I don’t know how long I can do this.”

You run, hating that it’s the only thing you can do. You run like a frightened rabbit, out the door, back down the black path, barely feeling the pain of your stinging feet or your abused throat as you gasp. When you get back to the crossing of paths you fling yourself onto the rose path without hesitation and just keep running, blinded by tears, only stopping when you run into something solid. You fall onto the path, desperately gasping, not even having the breath to scream when a familiar figure bends over you. It’s Dark, it’s Dark and he’s found you and you scrabble feebly on the path, trying to crawl backwards, get away, and then he’s speaking—

“I’m not him! I’m not Dark! **_Calm down_**!”

The voice hits your brain and muscles like warm honey and suddenly you don’t feel like trying to get away anymore. You look at the person in front of you, really look at them. The face looks like Dark’s face, but the eyes, all six of them, are black and gold instead of black and red. His wings are feathery instead of made of darkness, white feathers at the top fading into gray midway down, black feathers at the bottom nearly touching the ground.

“My name’s—“ The name sounds like a windstorm breaking a stained glass window, and you recognize that name. This is the angel Jack told you about. Oh god, Jack, Anti. The thought of them doesn’t carry as much fear as it probably should. You try to get your breath back, you have to tell the angel what happened. Even as you think it, the angel’s eyes go wide, as if he can hear your thoughts.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move. Please.” He’s gone in a blink, leaving you alone.

You manage to sit up, wincing at the pain in your poor abused throat. Your fingers come away bloody, and you feel like maybe you should be panicking about this, but instead you just feel very calm, practically relaxed. You look around at your surroundings, waiting for the angel to come back. Now that you’re not running for your life you notice that the sky above you is an entirely different color than it had been when you were on the onyx path. You can still see the stars in the sky, but the sky itself is a dark rose-orange shading into purple, the sky of a summer sunset, though you don’t see anything that looks like a sun. The air is warmer here too, and the shrubs that line the path seem to be mainly roses, the smell of them sweet but not overwhelming.

The angel reappears with the sound of ruffling feathers and you blink up at him. There’s a smear of blackish green blood across the back of his hand, which he casually wipes on his jeans. You’re not sure what you thought angels would wear, but jeans and a t-shirt hadn’t been even a consideration. “Jack’s himself again, it’s okay. He says he’s sorry, so so sorry. He asked if you were okay.” The angel looks at you. “You’re not okay. Damn it, I didn’t even—I used the Voice on you.“ He reaches down and helps you to your feet, his hand warm in yours. He doesn’t let go once you’re upright, and you’re glad, since you still feel a little unsteady. Your thoughts feel far away, but you manage to focus when the angel says your name. He has to be a mind reader then, like Dark, because you know you didn’t tell him your name.

“Sorry,” the angel says. “You can call me Mark, by the way, I know humans can’t pronounce my other name very well. And this is going to sound incredibly forward, but may I kiss you? It’d be the fastest way to heal you, and humans enjoy kissing, right? Most humans, anyway?”

You didn’t know angels could be awkward. It’s almost adorable. You assure him that yes, you are one of those humans that enjoy kissing.

“Oh good, because crying on people gets rather messy.” Mark leans down, gently cradling your head in his hands, and kisses you. It’s like standing in summer sunlight, warmth flooding through you, filling you up. Mark tastes like sunshine and lemons, a little bit sour and a little bit sweet. Now you’re thinking about a lot of things, things that will probably get you sent to a very special hell. When the kiss ends you lean a little into his chest, shaking from emotion. So much has happened tonight.

“I know,” Mark says, holding you against him, his body warm and solid against yours. “I’m sorry.” He says it like it’s his fault, and you murmur a protest into his chest.

“I apologize because Dark won’t. He has his fun, and I’m the one who has to run around trying to undo the damage. You’re not the first person he’s brought here, and you won’t be the last. He looks like me, and I don’t know why or how, but I think it’s my fault he’s here, somehow. But that’s my burden to bear, not yours. You just want to go home.”

You don’t see the change happen, but you feel it. When you look around you’re back in your kitchen. It seems like a lifetime ago since you left it. The colors seem muted and drab after where you’ve been, the kitchen floor under your feet so distressingly normal.

Mark makes a gesture with one hand. For a second everything is very bright, very warm. “Dark won’t be able to come here again, I’ve made sure of that. It’s the least I can do. If you ever need anything, even if you just need to talk, just think of me. I’ll find you.”

Mark looks sad when he says this, and on impulse you stand up on tiptoe and kiss him on the lips. It startles a laugh from him, and you swear he’s blushing in the instant before he vanishes in a rustle of feathers. You can still taste him on your lips when you go to bed, and your dreams are filled with the sound of wings and the feel of sunshine.

**Ending 5- The Lips of an Angel**


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 8, 13, 14, 16, and 30.

The change when you step on the rose path is immediate. Above you the sky, still filled with stars, lightens to the deep purple rose of near sunset, though you don’t see anything that looks like a sun, or even a moon for that matter. It’s warmer here too, and the flowers around you are mostly roses, the scent of them just short of overwhelming. The path is soft under your bare feet, downright blissful after the stinging burning sand feeling of the onyx path. You start walking, not sure where you’re headed. Is this a labyrinth, a maze, or some strange hybrid of the two? Is there anyone here who can help you get home?

You walk for what feels like hours, getting progressively more tired and scared. What if you can’t get home? What if you just keep walking this path and it doesn’t end and you can’t get out—

You’ve stopped walking. You’ve stopped walking because if you move you’re going to run, just keep running until you collapse. You’re crying without making any noise because if you open your mouth you’re going to scream, you just know it. You’re shaking and you’re breathing way too fast and all you can do is stand there on the path and try to ride it out.

_Are you okay?_

The voice completely bypasses your ears and goes straight into your brain. The sound of it has you running without even thinking, just running as fast as you can, and you don’t even realize why at first. The voice had sounded like Dark, the way he did when he wasn’t angry. Your legs are aching, your lungs burning, and you keep running because this is it, he’s come after you after all.

_Wait! Please? Fear not!_

The voice is still in the back of your head and you keep running, but you’re slowing down. Adrenaline and panic can only do so much.

_Just_ **_stop_ ** _for a second!_

The word hits your brain like a brick. For a second everything stops, heart, breath, thought, movement. Too bad momentum and gravity hadn’t taken a vacation as well, then you wouldn’t have fallen over. A second later you’re on your hands and knees, trying desperately to get your breath back.

_I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to use the Voice on you, are you all right?_

You can’t run anymore, but you refuse to be on your knees when you see Dark again. You stand up, trying your best not to look scared, and turn around.

It’s not Dark.

Wings. That’s what draws your attention first. A group of wings, white and black and gray, a cluster of them, hovering in front of you. Some of the wings are on fire, a blue-purple flame that gives off light but not heat. Then there are the eyes. So many eyes, some on the wings, some just seeming to hover near the wings. Some of the eyes are on fire too. All of them are staring at you.

You can practically feel your brain try to parse what you’re seeing, trying to put all the pieces together into something you can understand. You feel it give up, and that’s okay, it’s been a long night, and this is just one thing too many to deal with. You feel very calm as your vision goes all gray and sparkly and the last thing you hear before you pass out is the rustling of wings.

When you wake up you have that moment where you just lay there, eyes closed, trying to take inventory of who you are and where you are. The ‘who’ comes back to you quickly, the ‘where’ does not. The bed is not your own, it’s too soft for that, and the sheets smell like they were dried outside, they smell like sunlight and spring air. Did you go home with that guy you went out on a date with? You’re pretty sure you didn’t. You mentally retrace your steps. You went on that awful date, came home, and then—

You sit up in bed with a gasp, looking around frantically. You could be in any modern apartment bedroom, nothing about it gives you any clues, it looks like something out of a furniture catalog. You look down at yourself. Your clothes are still on and you don’t feel like anything untoward might have happened to you while you were unconscious. In fact, you feel pretty okay considering the kind of night you had. Is it still night?

You get out of bed and walk over to the curtains, pulling them back to reveal a blank wall. A shiver runs down your spine at the wrongness of it.

“Sorry, windows don’t really work here. At least, they don’t show you anything you’d want to see.”

You spin around, back flattened against the wall, heart racing. It’s Dark’s voice, and it’s coming out of Dark’s face, all six of his eyes blinking at you, his two mouths——wait. You mentally reassess what you’re seeing, trying to push past the panic rising in your throat. The person in front of you looks like Dark, body wise, and even some in the face, but not completely. His eyes are black and gold instead of black and red, and there’s the whole two mouths thing, which gives his voice a bit of an echo. Then there’s the wings to consider, made of feathers instead of darkness, white feathers at the top shading to gray around mid back and then shading to black at the tips, which almost touch the floor.

As you think all this, the person standing in the doorway nods slowly, all his eyes looking sad. “Ah, I see the problem now. I should have guessed.” Two sets of eyes disappear, as does one mouth. “I’m not Dark. I’ll swear on any god you like that I’m not him. My name’s—“ The name is a windstorm breaking a stained glass window. “You can call me Mark. I’m sorry. For scaring you. For everything he might have done to you.”

What Dark did wasn’t Mark’s fault, and you say as much as you cautiously take a few steps closer to him. Mark just shakes his head.

“The first thing I remember is Dark standing over me. Laughing. _Thanking_ me. I don’t know how, but I think I’m responsible for him somehow. So he does what he does, and I do the best I can to minimize the damage. That’s how things are. That’s how they will be, from now to always.” He smiles at you, something bitter untwisting into something a little kinder. “But that’s not your concern. You just want to go home. That I can do.”

Mark holds out his hand. After a few long moments you step closer, taking it. It’s warm, and just touching him makes you feel a little bit better, like something can be salvaged from the wreckage of the night after all.

_Flip a coin._

_Heads? Go to Chapter 25_

_Tails? Go to Chapter 26_


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 20

It’s not that you don’t like Jack that way, you just can’t stop thinking about who Jack has as a passenger, that Anti would be there, possibly able to watch, maybe even feel it, feel you…

You can tell Jack knows the answer before you say anything, and when you actually say it out loud his expression doesn’t change, not even a flicker of concealed disappointment. “No worries! I totally understand.” He gestures towards a door you swear wasn’t there a minute ago. “How about you get cleaned up and we’ll head out? I know a place where we should be able to find someone to bring you home, no problem.” He grins. “You’ll like it.”

You have a quick wash and whatnot in the bathroom that seemingly appeared from nothing, smoothing your wrinkled clothes as best you can and hoping you look okay. There aren’t any mirrors in the bathroom, nor the bedroom. As you make to walk into the living room you hear the soft hiss of static.

* _Wouldn’t even throw you a pity fuck? How sad._ *

You pause in the doorway, heart beating fast.

* _You want me to teach her some respect? I could make her beg for you._ *

“You are **not** going to touch her.” Jack’s voice is soft but adamant. “I like her. She’s **nice**.”

* _Gods you’re pathetic. Crushing on a mortal. You’re so stupid. She’ll break your heart, Jack._ *

You move through the doorway. Jack has his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his side. His shoulders tense up around his ears for a second when he hears your footsteps on the floor, then he relaxes, turning to you and smiling. You look at him, really look at him. His eyes are sunken, his bottom lip quivering ever so slightly, the smile and the look in his eyes slightly manic. He has the look of someone barely holding himself together.

“Ready to go then?”

You walk up to him, reaching for one of his still clenched fists, gently uncurling his fingers before putting your hand in his. You can feel the indents his fingernails left in his palm. You give his hand a gentle squeeze and something in his face relaxes, smooths out. You can’t give him sexual energy, but this little bit of human comfort seems to help, and that’s something.

“O-okay then. Let’s go!” Jack’s grin is more genuine as you set off.

Jack leads you to the green path and everything changes as soon as you both step onto it. The sky above you changes to a deep black, the stars shining even more brightly above as if to compensate. The air is as warm as a summer’s night, and the breeze brings the faint smell of salt with it. The path underneath your feet is as soft and lush as grass, and you’re not entirely surprised when the walls of hedges fall away and you’re walking through a moonlit field, then up a steep grassy hill. You glance back over your shoulder to see where you’ve been.

The paths and the flowering hedge walls had made you think of labyrinths, but it was one thing to think about a thing and another entirely to see it spread out before you. You’re sure you’re not seeing the whole of it, not with human eyes and only bright starlight to see it by, but the part you can see takes up the entire horizon. Far in the distance, towards what could be the center, something glows. The sky above the labyrinth is a shifting thing, all the colors of dusk, except for one corner, part of the labyrinth and yet somehow not, where the sky is static, the color of an old bruise that won’t heal. That’s where you just came from, you realize.

Jack tugs at your hand. “C’mon! No sense looking back. We’re almost there! You’ll like the Market, you can find most anything there, anything you can dream of!”

Jack’s enthusiasm is infectious, as is his smile. It’s only a few minutes walk more before you finally crest the hill and see the Market proper, tents and stalls sprawled out over the landscape. As soon as you see it, you realize you’ve seen the place before, dreamt of it. You’ve walked through the orchard of dead apple trees where the Maker of Masks has his little caravan full of carved wooden and leather faces. You’ve gone past the ring of torches that mark the Market boundaries proper, past the guards with their wings of flame and burning eyes. You’ve looked at the remains of broken dreams at the lost and found, trying to find something and waking up frustrated when you couldn’t find it.

You realize Jack’s gone quiet and still, watching you. When you look at him, he blushes and keeps walking. “So ahh, looks like maybe you’ve recognized the place. Some mortals come here in dreams.” He gestures towards a few nearly transparent folk, humans by the look of them. “Wandering dreams. See that silver outline? That’s how you know they’re wandering dreamers and not say, the wandering dead, though we don’t get many of them near the Market. The dead have their own labyrinth to walk, so it’s said.”

Jack continues to chatter as you walk past what you presume to be guards, people with wings made of flame and burning eyes. “Phoenixes. Used to be human once, the stories say, their mortality and memories burned out of them by their goddess’s power. You see ‘em in the Void, mostly, hunting the dreams of the Sleeping God.”

Something stirs in the back of your mind, a half forgotten nightmare maybe. You don’t realize you’re shaking until Jack squeezes your hand. “Hey, you okay?”

You nod, squeezing his hand back, forcing a smile. The memory or whatever it is fades, leaving just the tiniest bit of nameless anxiety behind it, which gnaws at you even as you stare at everything around you. The people that look strictly human are in the minority here. There are people with seal eyes selling rainbow colored salt, people with serrated shark’s teeth selling live fish in globes of water. There’s a woman with pink hair the color of clouds in sunset and the yellow eyes of a wolf selling birds that shine like rainbows and sing like crystal. The man standing next to her has golden brown wings and occasionally makes sounds like you imagine a happy eagle would make. Some people seem to be mixtures of human and animal, and sometimes you can’t guess the animal.

Not everyone here is beautiful. You flinch back against Jack as a small group of people walk past you, at least, you think they’re people. They look like they’re made out of scar tissue of every kind, twisted and strange. One of them turns to look at you, eyes barely slits through a mass of scars that look like burns. They have no mouth, at least, not one you can see.

“Scar eaters,” Jack says softly as you turn your face away from them. “Thought about giving them mine, once or twice.” His voice sounds scratchy and rough, and he clears his throat. “The Market has a lot of names, touches all sorts of worlds. There’s folks who make more than a decent living bringing people here, and that’s the sort we’re looking for. Keep an eye out for anyone with a mark on their hand that looks like a maze, or anyone with eyes that are completely white. A Walker of the Path will be able to get you home, no problem.”

The two of you search. The Market is a sprawling thing of tents and booths, the only permanent building a tavern like something out of a roleplaying game. You can sense Jack’s growing irritation as time passes, a feeling like a lightning storm about to break.

“Figures,” you hear Jack muttering. “Nothing’s going to be easy today.” He lets go of your hand to rub the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily. You open your mouth to ask if he’s okay when you’re interrupted by a voice behind you.

“Jack?” The voice is bright as starlight breaking through clouds.

Jack freezes next to you, eyes wide. He says something that you don’t quite catch, but the shape of the words crawls along your skin. “Oh no. Please no.” There’s a tremble in his voice, just a small one.

You turn around in confusion, Jack still as stone next to you. There’s a woman standing only a few feet away from you, her gray eyes bright with excitement. At least, her human eyes look excited, the other six eyes scattered across her forehead and cheeks, black and unblinking spider eyes just stare at you impassively. With one human hand she tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear nervously, while her four spider arms straighten her dress, something silken and gray that seems to catch the starlight and hold it. Her other human arm has a complex tattoo running up it, spiderwebs and stars that seem to glitter and shift in the torchlight. The woman smiles as Jack starts to turn around, and you see that her canines are thin and pointed.

“Suzy.” Jack doesn’t sound scared now, more amused, though his voice still sounds kind of scratchy and rough.

No. Not scratchy. Filled with static.

Anti grins like a broken television, his green eye burning. * _Suuuuuuzy. I haven’t seen you since you tried to tear me off of Jack’s soul_.* His laugh is a high pitched loop of feedback that makes you want to cover your ears. _*How’s your hand?*_

Suzy’s grin turns into something like a smirk as she holds up one hand. There’s a scar, long and pink, across her palm. “You barely scratched me.” Her spider legs twitch and move as if working at an invisible thread of silk. “Next time I’ll be better prepared.”

_*You think there’s going to be a next time?*_ Anti moves towards her, hand reaching for her throat. * _Arrogant little Weaver, you can’t possibly—*_

Suzy says something in some other language, something that sounds sticky and has Anti’s name stuck in the middle of it. Anti halts in mid stride, his face both angered and bewildered. * _You little bitch. This won’t hold me forever!*_

Suzy closes the distance between them, getting right up in Anti’s face. “I’ll untangle you from Jack’s soul someday, you disgusting little _snarl._ ” She spits the last word out as if it were a curse. “But for now, I’d like to talk to my _friend._ ” She makes a short, sharp gesture with her human hands at the same time her spider limbs finish their weaving motion. You see Anti’s green eye wink out a split second before Jack continues Anti’s forward motion, right into Suzy’s many waiting arms.

You can only stand there, body shaking with spent adrenaline as you try to process what just happened, what is still happening. Jack’s leaning his forehead against Suzy’s, breathing as hard as if he had just been running. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him, he’s so loud sometimes. You made him shut up, how’d you do that, how long will it last, can you—“

Suzy stops his stream of questions with a finger to his lips. “Shhhh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She thumbs away a few tears that are trailing down his cheeks. “The binding won’t last forever, he’s right about that, but it’ll last long enough for you to get some rest from him.” She gives him a long, hard look. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, have you.” It’s not a question. “And you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I hurt you,” Jack says simply.

Suzy grimaces and gives Jack a little frustrated shake. “No, _Anti_ hurt me, there’s a difference. That’s not going to stop me from helping you, Jack, got that? We’re going to try again. We’re—“ Suzy breaks off, seeming to really notice you for the first time. “We’re going to talk about this later. Who’s your friend?” As she speaks, the anger bleeds out of her tone and becomes something cheery and bright again.

You take a step forward, managing to stammer out your name. Suzy smiles widely. “Nice to meet you! I’m Suzy, a daughter of the Weaver of Stars, She who makes the threads that bind the universe together. For a price I can reweave your future, tell you where and when you’ll meet your one true love, or just make you a fabulous outfit!” She winks at you, and Jack groans, laughing weakly.

“She’s not a tourist, Suzy, you don’t have to charm her. Dark brought her here and now she doesn’t have a way to get back home. I promised her I’d get her back, safe and sound. I was looking for a Walker when you showed up.”

Suzy looks more closely at you, head tilted to one side. You try not to stare at all her extra eyes.

“I see now.” She makes a little tsking sound and gestures with her hands and spider arms, as if tucking something back into place. “You’re just full of loose threads and what if’s, aren’t you? And there’s Dark, wrapped around it all.” She looks apologetic. “If I could unravel your past and reweave you a new one I would, but I can’t change what’s woven and set. Still, I can get you back home, even bind Dark out of your house, assuming that’s what you want to do.”

You nod, slowly, still not clear about how you feel about Dark. He scares you, yes, but….

“You can always invite him back in. I won’t tell you if that’s a bad idea or not, that’s not my place. As far as incubus go though, you have options.” Suzy leans forward, whispering in your ear. “Dark’s not the only thread tangled up in yours.”

You feel yourself blushing and Suzy laughs. Jack walks over to you, and you reach for his hand again. There’s a moment’s hesitation before he takes it, almost like he can’t believe you’d want to touch him. “You can get her home?”

Suzy gives Jack a look. “The Weaver made the threads that bind the universes together, you think I can’t pick her thread out of the Weave and and follow it to where she lives?” She looks at you. “I just need about a pint of your blood, to make a connection with you and your threads. “ She smiles, almost apologetic, her teeth sharp in her mouth. “Don’t worry, I can make it nice for you.”

You swallow hard, then nod before you can change your mind. If it means getting home, you’ll do it.

Suzy smiles and takes the hand Jack isn’t holding. “Then let’s go somewhere a little more private, shall we?”

It turns out that Suzy lives in the Gardens of Eternal Dusk. “Azure path, stone archway, silver starflowers,” she says like it’s an address. The inside of her house is what you can only describe as Victorian gothic, and you’re pretty sure the weird couch you’re draped on is some sort of fainting couch. Jack has one hand on your shoulder in a reassuring way as Suzy takes your left arm. All you know from blood drinkers you learned from movies and vampire romance novels, so you’re kind of surprised when Suzy doesn’t go for your neck or even your wrist, instead running a thumb over the veins in the crook of your arm, like you were getting blood drawn for a mundane medical purpose and not some sort of magical thing.

“Are you ready?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod, not wanting to look at Suzy in the same way as you don’t look at the needle going in when you get your blood drawn. You feel Suzy’s lips against your skin, then the warm drag of her tongue, almost ticklish. You brace yourself for pain that never comes, though you feel the teeth sliding into your skin, into the vein. There’s the sensation of warmth spreading through you, and you feel yourself relaxing, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It feels…good. Not like, sexy good, but there’s a mild euphoria to it. You open your eyes, glancing over at Suzy. She’s focused on what she’s doing, her human eyes closed. You wonder what her other eyes see.

“Hey, you doing okay in there?” Jack’s looking down at you, a mild look of worry creasing his features. You smile dreamily and reach up with your free hand, touching his cheek.

“Heh, okay, just checking.” He nuzzles into your hand like a friendly puppy and you try not to giggle. Time stretches and slows. It seems like an eternity before Suzy pulls away from your arm, licking away a stray drop of crimson from her upper lip. She’s flushed, her eyes bright.

“Okay, not to sound creepy or anything, but you’re delicious.” She gives one last lick to the puncture holes and they stop bleeding immediately. “How are you feeling?”

You feel a little spacey, but good, so good that you try to stand up. The world goes a little fuzzy for a second and then you’re laying back on the couch, feeling dizzy.

“Hey there, no need to rush. This is going to take a minute anyway.” Suzy stares off into the middle distance, her fingers moving slowly in thin air, her spider limbs working at something you can’t see. “Jack, you might want to carry her. The way we’re going is kinda narrow, and she’s going to be a little unsteady for a bit.”

“No problem!” Jack scoops you up like you weigh nothing at all and you sigh as you settle into his arms, breathing in the green smell of him. You close your eyes as Suzy says something, as Jack starts to walk. Light plays against your eyelids, the air around you growing cool but not cold. You hear Jack make a sound of astonishment as he jiggles you slightly in his arms. “Open your eyes for a sec, you’re going to want to see this.”

You open your eyes and for a minute your brain can’t even process what you’re seeing, it’s just lights and colors and shapes. The longer you look, the more things focus. Stars shining in a sea of shifting red, purple and blue. Planets float like islands, a hundred billion worlds, all surrounded and connected by silvery, glittering thread. You wonder if any human has ever seen this, if you’re the first.

“A Walker will get you anywhere you need to go faster than a breath,” you hear Suzy say from in front of you. “A Weaver may get you there slower, but you’ll have something pretty to look at on the way.”

It’s too beautiful, too vast. You close your eyes again, and you don’t open them again until you’re home. You know it’s home even before you open your eyes, know it in your bones and blood. The gray light of almost dawn makes everything washed out and dull looking, and you’ve never been more glad to see your boring, mundane house in all your life.

“We’re cutting it kind of close,” Jack says. “World like this won’t have us here past sunrise.”

“I’m already ahead of you,” Suzy says quickly. Her fingers are glowing a silvery blue, and you swear you see her pull the predawn light out of the air and begin to shape it into something. “You might want to say your goodbyes.”

Jack lays you gently on your living room couch, then moves with an energy you’d only seen hints of in your short time together. Within a minute he’s gotten you a glass of orange juice from your fridge, the comforter and pillows from your bed, and even that one stuffed animal you would never admit to anyone that you sleep with. You blush and say it’s a poor substitute for Sam and Jack laughs, a loud and genuine laugh, his eyes bright.

“I’ll give the eyeball a hug for ya. And…” Jack rubs the back of his neck. “Heh, look at me, all shy.” He takes your hand, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles. “When I’m… if… when I’m better, when Anti’s gone, would you want me to come back?”

You don’t hesitate before nodding enthusiastically, and then, giddy at being home, (and maybe from blood loss) you lean over and kiss him on the cheek, smiling at him as he blushes.

“Well, ah, good! Okay then! Right! I’ll see you soon then!” Jack is grinning so hard you’re surprised the top of his head doesn’t come off. He practically bounces over to Suzy, who has finished binding your house against Dark.

“I’ll bring Jack back to you. Soon.” Suzy says this with a wink and a smile, and then the first real light of dawn shines over the horizon and they’re both gone, leaving you alone.

You sigh and wrap the comforter more tightly around yourself. You’re going to be unraveling the tangled mess of everything that happened to you for weeks at least, if not months or years, but at least you have something nice to look forward to.

**Ending 6- Tangled Up In You**


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 20

“You don’t have to,” Jack says quickly when you express your interest. “I mean, you don’t owe me anything, I don’t want you doing this out of pity or obligation or because you think it’s the only way to get you home—“

You lean forward and stop Jack’s words with a gentle kiss, cupping his face in your hands. He moans against your lips and leans into you, and you can feel him shaking as you feel the first few sparks of desire start to kindle in your belly. He’s panting when he pulls back, his pupils wide as he stares at you. “You, you really do want this. Want me.”

You nod and he grins so hard it’s a wonder the whole top of his head doesn’t come off. “Okay then. Sam, out.”

Sam’s barely out the door before Jack’s kissing you, pulling you close, hands in your hair. He kisses you like he’s starving, and maybe he is. Jack keeps kissing you even as you squirm out from under the bedcovers, trying to get closer to him. He doesn’t give you the same feeling Dark did, that insatiable need to be fucked, and you’re totally okay with that. For awhile you’re just content to let Jack kiss you. When his hands reach under your blouse and start caressing your nipples, you moan into his mouth and he pulls back from you, smiling, his blue eye shining brightly.

“Oh, you like that?” Jack unbuttons your shirt with quick fingers and after a moment of fumbling with your bra he’s sucking on one of your nipples, caressing the other one with his thumb. You whimper and try to grind against him, only to realize he’s not even hard, which seems odd since he’s clearly enjoying himself. Then again, you have no idea what he has going on below the waist.

Speaking of, Jack’s moving lower, kissing his way down your stomach. When he gets to the waistband of your skirt he pauses and looks up at you, his blue eye glowing. “Can I? Can I taste you? Please?”

You nod enthusiastically and squeak when Jack dips his head under your skirt and starts licking you through your underwear, the drag of his tongue against the cloth feeling amazing.

“I forgot how good this feels,” You hear Jack say against your thigh. “It’s gets so bad in my head sometimes, and with _him_ inside me I just feel so… unclean. But you want me anyway.” He pulls your underwear down, then your skirt is off too and you can see him looking at you. You blush, half moving a hand to cover yourself. Jack stops you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “No, don’t. You don’t have to hide from me.” Then he’s between your legs again, his tongue sliding against you, lapping up your arousal. “You taste incredible,” he says, slightly muffled.

You moan and twist your hands in the bedsheets, desperate for something to hold on to. Jack pauses and looks up at you, resting his head on your thigh. “You can pull my hair, if you like.”

You had gotten used to having sex with Dark, and he hadn’t liked to be touched. When you thread your fingers through Jack’s hair and tug him back where you want him he moans against you, tongue working frantically, not stopping until you cry out, back arching off the bed at the intensity of your orgasm. It takes you several minutes before you get your breath back, watching Jack grin up at you while you stroke his hair.

“Oh, oh wow,” Jack says, face shiny with your arousal. He wipes at it half heartedly with the edge of his shirt before taking his shirt off entirely and throwing it into the darkness beyond the bed. He had looked so skinny with his shirt on, but now you can see the lean muscles that had been hiding under his clothes. You run a hand over his chest, appreciating the view and the feel of his skin under your hands. Jack sits up, straddling your thighs, giving you more access to his skin. He leans into your touch like he’s hungry for it. How long had he been depriving himself?

You reach out, cupping Jack between his legs and even though you don’t feel any hardness there he still lets out a sound that is somewhere between a moan and a sigh as he rocks against your hand. “S-sorry, it’s a little shy sometimes.”

There’s a little giggle of static distortion at that, and if you could slap Anti without hurting Jack, you would. Instead you just reach for the zipper on Jack’s pants.

“I got this,” Jack says, reaching down to do it himself. His hands are shaking, and he nearly falls off the bed when he gets tangled up in his underwear, but a minute or so later he’s straddling your thighs as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

You’re not even entirely sure what you’re looking at for a second or two. Where you were expecting a penis of some sort all you see is a slit, the lips flushed and swollen. You want to ask a question, but Jack leans over and kisses you hungrily, grinding against you. When he pulls back, you see _something_ peeking out from his slit, something small and as green as Easter basket grass. As you watch, more of the something emerges, shiny and slick, and you realize it’s a tentacle, and the tip was the only small thing about it, though it’s not so large that you worry about what it’d be like to have it in you.

Jack looks at you, smiling anxiously. “I know it’s not, you know, usual, and if tentacles aren’t your thing, that’s totally okay! We can always—“

You reach out and the tentacle threads itself through your fingers, squirming and pulling gently. There’s a bit of give to it, and it feels warm and just a little bit spongey against your hand, a little bit slick with whatever it’s exuding.

Jack chuckles and it turns into a moan halfway through. “I-I think it likes you.”

Your hand feels tingly and warm when the tentacle finally lets go of you, and you lick your fingers, curious. They taste like something electric, like licking a battery, or tasting summer lightning. You feel the warmth of arousal spreading through you and you squirm, your hips twitching.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Jack’s eyes are bright. “Do you want it in you?”

You’re nodding frantically before he even has the sentence finished. You feel the tentacle sliding against you, slipping through your arousal, squirming against your clit. In seconds you’re coming again, and your interior muscles haven’t even stopped twitching before the tentacle is sliding inside you, slick and smooth like it was made for you. You cry out at the sensation of fullness, clawing at the sheets, and then Jack is leaning over you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Hold on to me,” Jack says, sounding desperate, like he needs to be held as much as you need something to hold. You wrap your arms around him as if he’ll keep you from being swept away in sensation. Jack doesn’t thrust, but he doesn’t have to. His tentacle moves and undulates inside you, pressing down on your inner walls until it rubs up against something that makes you cry out as you come again.

“That’s right,” Jack says, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” Light moves under his skin, like summer lightning through clouds. You feel something wet on your face. Is he crying? Are you? “Got another one in you?” Jack reaches down between your bodies, rubbing at your clit as his tentacle rubs inside you as if mimicking the movement. “How many can you give me?”

You lose count. Everything is an ocean of sensation, and the only reason you don’t drown is because you’re clinging to Jack as if he were a life preserver. There’s a limit to how much a human body can handle though, and eventually you both stop, Jack panting against you, babbling words into your neck.

“Thank you, thank you, oh gods above and demons sideways, that was incredible.” He looks at you with wide, wet eyes. “I’ll have no problem getting you home now, I promise, but can I have a nap first?”

You laugh and pull him close, running a hand through his sweaty green hair. He’s asleep within seconds, smiling, an honest and genuine smile, untainted by anything that’s living inside him.

You close your eyes. You’ll have to figure out how to keep Dark out of your house without being invited, but that’s a problem for future you. Present you just wants a nap and a shower. Well, and a list of what you’ll need to summon Jack to your house. You have needs, after all, and Jack is sweet, regardless of what’s lurking inside him. With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to Jack and fall asleep.

**Ending 7- Like Something Out of an Anime**


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 22

The transition is so smooth that if you had closed your eyes you wouldn’t have even been able to tell anything had happened. Your kitchen appears around you, looking so utterly normal, the colors muted and dull in comparison to where you had been, but wonderfully familiar. You stand there, trembling slightly, feeling wired and completely wrung out all at once.

Mark gestures with his free hand, says a word in a language that feels warm on your skin, like honey in sunlight. “Dark won’t be able to come back here, unless you summon him again.” There’s no judgement in his tone, just a simple statement of fact. “Is there anything you need? Are you going to be okay?”

You think about lying in bed, alone, in the dark, in the quiet house, and shiver. Falling asleep in front of the TV in the living room would at least provide some background noise, but you’d still be alone, and that’s the last thing you want right now. You manage to get the question out, hesitant and soft.

Mark grins, his expression one of excitement. “Sure! Is it okay if we watch television? I learn so much watching TV, humans tell the most interesting stories.”

Moments later you’re both curled up on the couch, wrapped up in the comforter from your bed. Mark smells like lemons and sunlight, a good, comforting smell. You browse through channels until you find something interesting, then snuggle against Mark, your head resting on his chest. You suddenly realize you didn’t thank him, for bringing you home.

“It’s the least I could do,” Mark says, idly stroking your hair. You lean into his touch like a cat. “You ever need anything, you just think of me and I’ll find you, okay? Like if you want to talk or you’re just lonely or anything at all.”

You think something but don’t say it, a blush heating up your face just at the thought. Mark’s chuckle rumbles through his chest and wraps around you warmly as you fall asleep.

**Ending 8- In the Arms of an Angel**


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 22

Reality flows around you, smooth as anything, and you’re standing in the kitchen you left what seems like a lifetime ago now, Mark standing next to you, still holding your hand. He makes a sound of surprise, his hand squeezing yours, and you don’t have to ask why. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, you can only stand there, frozen in shock.

Dark’s sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands. His hair looks disheveled and his tie is slightly askew. When he looks up at you there’s a second where several emotions war across his face before it becomes the pleasantly banal mask you’ve seen him wear before. You think there might have been relief mixed in with anger, but you really couldn’t say. Dark stands, smoothing back his hair, looking over your head at Mark.

“Is that why I couldn’t find her? You were hiding her from me?” Dark asks.

“From the way she tells it, she needed my protection.” Mark’s voice is strained, the words clipped.

Dark’s eyes flick to yours. “I tried to find you, after I calmed down. I lost my temper, said things I shouldn’t have.”

“You lose your temper a lot, Dark.” Mark’s hand tightens on yours, just a little.

Dark ignores Mark, keeps looking at you. “I wanted to apologize. I wanted to ask if you’d forgive me, if you’d ever let me see you again.” He smiles at you, and something low in your belly clenches in a nice way. “We had some good times together, you and I, didn’t we?”

“He also hurt you and had you running scared, remember that?” You can see Mark’s jaw clenched in anger, and he’s glowing slightly, like a miniature sun. “I can make you leave, Dark.”

“This is her choice to make. You angels are all about free will, aren’t you?” Dark’s voice is calm, matter of fact, as his attention turns back to you. “Do you want me to beg?” He gets down on his knees. “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.”

_Forgive Dark? Go to Chapter 27_

_Don’t forgive Dark? Go to Chapter 28_


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continues from Chapter 26

Dark looks so vulnerable, so open. He looks honestly and truly sorry. You look back at Mark, and you see that he already knows what you’re going to do. The anger drains out of his posture and he looks resigned.

_If he ever hurts you again, if you need me for any reason at all, you think my name. I’ll come to you._

You give Mark the tiniest of nods, and he’s gone in an implosion of light.

You turn back to Dark, and he looks both relieved and smug as he gets to his feet. “I knew you’d choose me. No one can make you feel like I do. Why would you ever give that up?” Dark puts his arms around you for a second, whispers something that makes your bones buzz and your blood tingle. Maybe it’s an apology. You’d like to believe that’s what it is.

Dark puts his hands on your shoulders. “Now, how about we end this night on a more… pleasant note.”

You go to your knees obediently, desire spreading over you like smoke, and Dark runs a hand through your hair with a look of absent minded affection. “Didn’t I say this is how things would end up?”

**Ending 9 — On Your Knees**


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 26

You manage to shake your head, just a little, a small act of negation. It’s enough.

Dark’s facial expression doesn’t change, yet it totally does. The slightest widening of the eyes in surprise, the barest twitch in a muscle in his jaw in anger. The shadows in the room darken and twist. Dark says something that you don’t understand and then Mark is stepping in front of you, glowing so brightly that you can’t look at him. You close your eyes, but even that can’t block out the light. You’re vaguely aware that you’ve fallen to your knees, your arms over your head, like Mark is a nuclear explosion and you’re trying to protect yourself from the fallout. You can hear both their voices, ancient words like a wind threatening to blow you away.

Maybe you go a little blind, a little deaf. There’s a blank in your awareness and then the everything is silent and still, except for the sound of someone crying. It takes you a minute to realize the someone is you. You feel warm arms around you, the soft brush of feathers against your back, the sound of Mark’s voice vibrating along your skin. You don’t understand what he’s saying, and you don’t know if it’s because he’s not speaking English or if your hearing is messed up. It sounds like a question. You manage to open your eyes just a little. It’s just you and Mark in the kitchen. No one else.

You don’t resist when Mark picks you up and carries you into the bedroom, you don’t have the energy. Tears keep falling from your eyes without any conscious effort on your part, like you’re a leaky faucet. You’re still crying when Mark places you on the bed, when he asks you another question. This one you hear. You reach for him, and he lays beside you, holding you close, one wing curled over you as if protecting you. Eventually you fall asleep.

If you had known that it was the last good sleep you were going to have for weeks, you would have appreciated it more. Instead you wake up in the morning, face sticky with tears, still exhausted. For a second you’re surprised that Mark is still next to you, before you remember that he’s not an incubus and that maybe the rules are different for angels. You wonder if he slept. He doesn’t look tired exactly, but he does look weary in a way you can’t put a finger on exactly. He smiles gently at you.

“Are you okay?”

You can’t even process the question. Too much has happened.

“He won’t come back,” Mark says gently. “I made it so he can’t, unless you summon him again.” He tucks a bit of stray hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry. For everything. I wish there was more I could do. If you need anything, just think about me and I’ll be here. Okay?”

When you say yes he smiles at you and then he’s gone without a sound. You groan softly as you get up and go about trying to pretend that everything is fine. You make breakfast, get dressed, go to work, follow your normal routine. You ignore the sense of dread that fills you when the sun begins to set, try not to look at the sky when dusk falls. You fall asleep with the light on in your room, but that doesn’t stop the nightmares. You don’t remember the nightmares when you wake up, drenched in sweat and trying not to scream, you just know that they were the most terrifying thing you had ever dreamed, and that they were true.

This goes on for at least a week, days filled with keeping up appearances, the dread of dusk, the nightmares. You start dozing off at work, and get sent home one day when you wake up screaming at your desk. Your boss tells you to take a few days off, and you’re afraid that you’re going to get fired.

One night you wake up and the room is dark, even though you fell asleep with the light on. Logically you figure that the bulb burnt out, or there’s been a power failure, but panic paralysis you. You can’t move, can barely breathe. You know there’s something in the darkness, that if you move or make a sound it’s going to _see_ you.

You think Mark’s name, practically scream it in your head. The sudden light of his appearance by the edge of the bed blinds you, but you don’t care, squinting against his brilliance, taking comfort in the light. Your paralysis breaks and you cling to him, shaking.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay, you’re okay. What happened?”

You tell him about the dread, the nightmares, and it seems like such a small thing once you start talking about it, that you called for him because you’re suddenly afraid of the dark like a child. He doesn’t make you feel bad about it though, just holds you.

“I might be able to help. But you need to go back to sleep first.”

You shake your head frantically, beginning to panic again. You don’t remember the nightmares, you just know they’re horrible. Besides, you’re too keyed up to even think about sleeping now.

Mark leans his forehead against yours. “It’s going to be all right. I’m here. Just **_sleep._** ”

You’re standing in darkness. Not just blackness, but darkness with layers, darkness with colors your brain can’t even comprehend. There’s something behind you, you know in the way you know things in dreams. It’s something ancient and old, something sleeping that’s going to wake up. It’s going to wake up and _see_ you, see everything, destroy everything.

_Oh._ Mark’s mental voice is quiet. _You saw something you weren’t supposed to see._

Soft light starts to penetrate the darkness, as if the sun was rising. You realize suddenly that Mark is standing next to you, his hand in yours.

_I like watching the sun rise_ , Mark says, lips not moving. _Something about it makes me think of…._ He trails off. _I don’t know how you saw the Sleeping God. It’s a wonder you haven’t been driven mad already._ He steps in front of you, the light making a halo around him. Six golden eyes blink at you, and it’s beautiful.

_You’re going to forget what you saw. I can do that much. The Sleeping God is not for you to worry about._

Mark leans over and kisses you, and it’s like the light, gentle and soft. You close your eyes. When you open them again, you’re awake, in bed alone, and there is sunlight streaming in through your window. There’s a curious blank spot in your brain, and you resist the urge to poke at it like a missing tooth. You roll over away from the sunlight, smiling at a few of Mark’s stray feathers on the pillow beside you, and go back to sleep.

**Ending 10- What Dreams May Come**


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 8, 13, 14, 16 and 30.

Everything changes when you step on the blue path. The sky above you goes from deep violet black to a light dusty blue purple, and the air around you warms slightly. The flowers growing in the shrubbery surrounding the path are mostly colors your brain recognizes, and the smell of them gladdens your heart, just a little. There’s another smell just under it, the smell of a summer rainstorm not quite here yet. The sky above still shines with stars, only partially obscured by a few clouds.

You walk the path for what seems like hours, thinking of labyrinths and mazes, wondering just where you are, cursing yourself for letting Dark take you somewhere you couldn’t easily get home from. You don’t see anyone else walking along or near your path, and there’s no one in the lantern lit gardens that you occasionally see off the main path. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying not to panic. Where does this path lead? Is there anyone else here besides you?

You keep walking as the wind picks up and the clouds roll in, obscuring the light of the stars. The path glows softly with its own light, and there are still occasional lanterns, but otherwise you can barely see. One raindrop falls, then another, quickly turning into a heavy shower. Thunder rolls in the distance as lightning crawls across the sky, blue white flashes arching from cloud to cloud. It’d be pretty, if you weren’t lost and scared and soaking wet. You look around for shelter but there’s nothing nearby except wooden arches with climbing roses and the small shrubs that line the path, nothing that would provide safe cover.

You sit down on a stone bench, shivering, feet aching, hugging yourself as the rain continues to pour down, mixing with the sudden tears in your eyes. You start second guessing yourself, wondering if you over-reacted. Maybe you should have just stayed with Dark. Maybe….

You hear something moving on the path and suddenly the rain isn’t falling on you anymore. You squint up at the shadowy figure in front of you, frantically wiping away rain and tears as your heart pounds in your chest. Youshouldn’t have thought about Dark, now he’s found you and—

“Hey there, are you lost?” The voice is unfamiliar, sounding as friendly and warm as a cup of hot chocolate. In a flash of lightning you make out a face framed by two sets of horns which curve out of a frankly absurd amount of curly dark hair. His eyes are black surrounded by red, completely inhuman and yet full of concern. He’s holding an umbrella that looks like it’s made out of silk and starlight, silver and glittering. He leans down slightly, to get a better look at you, at the same time giving you a better look at him. He has a cloth bag slung over one shoulder, the contents inside clinking as he moves. He’s wearing something that could barely be called shorts and no shirt. You have a sudden casual desire to run your hands over his chest. You blink quickly, confused at your own sudden desire.

He hunkers down until he’s at eye level with you, and only then do you notice that his legs are furry and bend strangely, his feet cloven hooves. You think of fauns, forests gods, demons, and that last one makes you think of Dark again. You shrink back a little, resist the urge to draw your knees up to your chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly, like you’re a frightened animal he’s afraid is going to run away. “My name’s—“ The syllables rise and fall smoothly over your skin, unlike Dark’s tattoo needle buzz of a name. “You can call me Dan.” He pauses, clearly waiting for you to give your name, but your voice is stuck in your throat. Can you trust him? You thought you could trust Dark, and look where it had gotten you. But that was your own fault, wasn’t it, for being stupid enough to trust him, to make him angry. Shame and self loathing and second thoughts twist in your stomach and head and heart, writhing like worms through a corpse.

“Hey now.” Dan’s voice is gentle but firm. “It’s all stormy in your head, and there’s only so much I can do about that, except offer you someplace warm and dry to think, and someone who’ll listen if you want to talk.” He smiles, and even though his teeth are sharp the smile is gently. “Oh and tea. I have tea.” He puts out a hand, as if to help you to your feet, though he doesn’t touch you.

Maybe it’s the smile that decides you, or maybe you’re just tired of being wet and alone. You put your hand in his, and it’s like putting your hand on the side of a wood stove that’s well on its way to being more than warm. He’s hotter than a human would be, and you wonder idly what it would feel like to be wrapped around him. Dan helps you to your feet with an easy strength and doesn’t seem surprised when you don’t let go of his hand afterwards, just walks next to you silently, not trying to make small talk. You’re not even surprised a few minutes later when you walk underneath a wooden arch covered in climbing roses the color of sunset fading into twilight and suddenly appear in a living room nearly the size of your whole place back at home. The stone floor is smooth against your bare feet and just a little chilly. The walls look like something that grew up out of the ground, and a large fireplace bathes the room in light. You resist the urge to curl up in front of the fireplace like a cat and sleep for a week.

“You’re not wearing shoes,” Dan says, and there’s something in his voice that makes you look up at him. He lets go of your hand and takes a step back, his eyes wide. “You’re not wearing shoes and you don’t speak and I found you out in the rain. You’re a mermaid aren’t you? I didn’t even ask you to show me your teeth, just let you into my home and now you’re going to eat me for being kind-hearted and foolish.”

It’s not funny at all, but you find yourself laughing at the absurdity of the idea that *you* are something to be scared of. You laugh until you can barely breathe, until there’s a feeling like a wall breaking in your chest and suddenly you’re sobbing, words spilling out of you in great choking gasps. You don’t stop crying even when Dan puts his arms around you, you just keep telling him what happened to you tonight, how you had trusted Dark, how angry he had been, how you don’t know how to feel about him now. How you don’t know where you are and you’re tired and scared and you just want to go home. It feels good to get the words out, even if you’re not sure that Dan can even understand you between the crying and the fact that you’re talking into his chest. Eventually your crying trails off to hiccups and sniffles and you realize that Dan smells nice, like cinnamon and cocoa and something old, like dusty books.

“Feel better?”

You nod into Dan’s chest. Better is kind of a relative term, mostly what you feel is soaking wet and embarrassed, but you feel less scared and hopeless, and that’s something.

Dan pulls back from you a little, taking both your hands. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll get you home one way or the other, though from the sounds of it, it might be tricky. Let’s get you out of those wet things and warmed up and we’ll take it from there. Sound good?”

It sounds excellent, and you say so, belatedly giving Dan your name while you’re at it.

“I don’t know how humans get by with names that are so…one dimensional,” Dan says as he leads you down a hallway. “I mean, uhhh, not that your name isn’t pretty!” He says, backpedaling madly. “Maybe it’s just something about your Earth languages. The language of dreams is just so much more expressive. Wait here for a sec.” He steps through a door, coming back out a minute later with a heap of something silvery blue and gray draped over his arms. “I don’t have much in the way of like, actual pants, it’s ahhh, not my thing really. I hope these are okay. Bathroom’s the next door down. You change and I’ll go make some tea.”

You peel yourself out of your wet clothes, drying off with the softest, fluffiest towel you’ve ever felt. The clothes Dan gave you are some sort of silk, smooth against your skin. They look something like a T-shirt and shorts, and they don’t fit, or at least, they don’t fit when you first put them on. By the time you put on the silvery blue robe the rest of the clothes have changed themselves to fit you as perfectly as if they had been tailored. As you watch, the hem of the robe shrinks a few inches so won’t trip over it.

You head back into the main room, hearing the clink and rustle of Dan making tea elsewhere. You lay your wet things near the fire to dry and curl up on the couch, looking around. There’s a television hooked up to a VCR and DVD player, and you recognize some of the titles, though not all of them. It’s the same with a nearby bookcase, a mix of familiar and not so familiar.

“Here we go then,” Dan says cheerfully as he enters the room, handing you a pottery mug filled with tea that smells like cinnamon and woodsmoke, and tastes like it too. It warms you from the inside out and you feel yourself relaxing in spite of yourself. Dan sits down across from you and takes a sip of his own tea. “Feeling better?”

You nod, and Dan smiles in satisfaction before his expression shifts to one of concern. He reaches over and touches your wrist, the bruises there in the shape of Dark’s fingers. “Dark give you those?”

You nod and Dan pulls back, expression sad and thoughtful. “I’ve heard stories, about that one. That he’s part angel, or part demon, or some forgotten god that managed to hold on to a little bit of power, a nightmare so old that it developed a personality, a name. Any of those could be true, or none of them. This is the Land of Dreams, after all, and it’s full of stories. But one thing all the stories say is that he’s not to be trusted. You say he said he wouldn’t chase you, but how long until his pride gets the better of him?” He looks down at his mug of tea, and then back up at you. “You’ve summoned him up before, but do you know how to keep him from entering your house uninvited again?”

Your friend had been the one to give you Dark’s summoning name what seemed like a lifetime ago. They had included instructions to guard your place from any unwanted inter dimensional guests, but you hadn’t thought you’d need them for Dark. You nod slowly.

Dan must catch something in your expression. “I’m sorry, if you had feelings for him. You wouldn’t be the first human to fall for one of us. It usually doesn’t end well for anyone involved.”

You had already put two and two together and figured out Dan was an incubus, so that doesn’t surprise you. What catches you off guard, just a little, is how sad he sounds. You reach over and touch his hand, and he just chuckles and shakes his head.

“This isn’t about me.” He drains the rest of his tea and you follow suit. “Let’s talk about getting you back home! It sounds like your world is one of the ones people like me have to be invited to, through summoning, but there are ways around that. No world can keep out someone who comes from it originally, so you’re like a key to a door. All I have to do is provide the ability to get you to the lock, as it were.” He stands up, pulling you to your feet. “It probably sounds more complicated than it actually is. We’ll just be going for a walk, really. Easy as anything.”

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes, his voice, that makes you wonder if it’s as simple as he’s making it out to be. You want to believe him though. All you can think about is going home and sleeping for a week and maybe pretending this whole thing was a dream.

Dan keeps hold of one of your hands. “What I need you to do is close your eyes and think about where you want to go. No matter what happens, keep your eyes closed, keep walking, and do *not* let go of my hand. Okay?”

You nod and close your eyes, picturing the kitchen that you left what seems like a lifetime ago. The heat from Dan’s hand seems to move through you, traveling down to the soles of your bare feet. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and then he’s walking, and so are you.

Even with your eyes closed, you know you’re somewhere else. The air around you no longer smells like anything, and the darkness behind your eyes seems even darker. There’s something under your feet, not stone or earth, but something solid with a little give to it.

“You’re doing great.” Dan’s voice sounds oddly flat, as if the air in this place doesn’t carry sound properly. “Just keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll be home before you know it.”

You think about home, your wonderfully normal home, and take a deep breath, then another. The air seems thin, like there’s not enough oxygen. Something stirs in the back of your mind, like the forgotten memory of a nightmare. You’d been standing in the dark and you could barely breathe and there had been something _horrible_.

There’s a noise in the darkness, a whine, a growl, the sound of many things flapping. Dan says your name, voice strained. There’s more warmth flowing from him to you, his hand almost burning hot, and there’s a flickering light playing against your eyelids. “Just keep walking, we’re almost there. Just think about home. Are you thinking about home?”

You’re not. Your heart is beating too fast and you can’t breathe and you know if you open your eyes there will be something horrible in the darkness. You open your eyes.

Dan’s glowing like a beacon next to you, and at the edges of that light you see shapes swimming in the darkness, things like manta rays with mouths upon mouths, all teeth and appetite. They howl when they get close to the light, swim a little further back into the darkness. You shut your eyes and you still see them, still hear them. For a second you stop moving and you feel the path sag underneath you, like quicksand, before Dan tugs at your hand and you start walking again, the path firming up under your feet.

“Almost there, almost there, you can do it, just keep going. They won’t get us if we hurry.”

You walk faster, feeling sudden resistance against you, like walking into a strong wind. You wrench your mind away from where you are, focus on where you’d rather be, and suddenly there’s light and warmth and a solid floor underneath your feet. You stumble a little, eyes opening as you bump into the kitchen table, the stupidly normal kitchen table you thought you’d never see again. You can feel yourself grinning at the sheer joy of being back and you have a few seconds to savor that emotion before you realize that Dan’s hand is chill and clammy in yours, and he’s leaning heavily against one of the kitchen chairs. He smiles at you and gives you a weak and shaky thumbs up. “Told you I’d get you home. Easy as anything. You do what you need to, to make your house safe. I just need to… “ Dan lists a little to the left and you just manage to catch him before he falls entirely. Now that your arms are around him you can feel him shaking, ever so slightly. “Sorry, that… took a little more out of me than I thought.” He struggles upright and leans against you. “I think I need to lie down for a minute. I’m sorry.”

You’re the one apologizing as you lead him to the bedroom, where he immediately burrows under the blankets, cocooning himself. Remembering how cold he had felt, you grab another blanket from the closet and add it to the pile. Guilt twists in your stomach. This happened because of you, because he was trying to get you home. Had you called those things to you with the memory of… whatever that had been? You don’t realize you’ve asked Dan that question until you hear his voice from under the mess of blankets, his horns barely poking out.

“Shhhh. It’s always a risk, going the long way, always things in the spaces between worlds. Not your fault. You made it home. That’s what’s important. I’ll be fine. Do what needs doing.”

It’s hard to concentrate on what needs to be done. You’re exhausted and worried and you’re cold in some way that has nothing to do with temperature. You shiver as you dig out the instructions on how to seal your house from unwanted guests, as you do what is needful with salt and sage and blood, as you carve runes in your windowsills and under the rug by the door. You’ve already decided to let Dan sleep, the only reason you go back into the bedroom at all is to grab a spare blanket and pillow so you can sleep on the couch. You don’t expect him to be sitting up in bed, blankets still wrapped tightly around himself.

“I didn’t mean to kick you out of your bed. I’ll just—“ He goes to stand and you see the wobble as his legs betray him just in time to keep him from falling and whacking his head on the dresser. You sit him back down on the bed, firmly telling him that he’s not going anywhere tonight. He chuckles softly. “I’ll be gone in the morning regardless, worlds like yours kick us out at dawn. I never thought I’d be grateful for that, I don’t think I’d have the energy to get home otherwise. I kind of… overexerted myself a little. Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll sleep on the couch if you want me to. I just need a little help getting there, is all.”

You could do that, except it’d mean sleeping in the bed, in the dark, alone, and that’s too many things for you to cope with at the moment. When you tell Dan that he makes space for you in the nest of blankets after you turn off the light. There’s enough space on the bed that you’re not touching, and he doesn’t hold you until you ask, shyly forcing out the words. You lay in his arms, eyes closed, utterly exhausted….

You don’t fall asleep. All you can think about is things in the dark of the worlds, and the incubus beside you now, who helped you get home. He’s a little warmer than he was before, but nowhere near that almost uncomfortable level of heat he had been. You turn in his arms, mindful of his horns, hearing his half sleepy sound of inquiry. You lean forward and kiss him on the lips. He’s an incubus, and you know what will make him feel better, what would make up for what he went through to get you home. You reach for his hand, guide it to your chest—

Dan pulls back from you, breathing heavily, his eyes shining in the darkness. “No.”

It’s a simple word, and the sound of it brings something like relief with it, even as you feel yourself blushing with shame.

Dan keeps hold of your hand, gently kisses your palm. “You’re exhausted, and you feel guilty, and you want to make things up to me and you don’t want to be alone. I get all that. But you don’t owe me anything, and I’m not going to take anything from you tonight, not when it’s all wrapped up in guilt and obligation. There would be some of us who could look past that and just take what’s offered, but I can’t, because that would hurt both of us. Do you understand?”

You do, and you turn back around in Dan’s arms, so he’s spooning you. You feel tears burning in your eyes, your emotions all over the place.

“Shhhhh,” Dan whispers in your ear. “It’s okay.” He hums softly and you close your eyes, feeling yourself relax, following the sound down into sleep.

Dan’s gone in the morning, and you wake up in a nest of blankets, alone and ravenously hungry. You stumble into the kitchen for something to eat and notice a scrap of paper on the kitchen counter, the handwriting unfamiliar. On it is a name written in an old alphabet next to a list of ritual ingredients and a note.

_Only if you want to, and only when you’re ready._

You hold the note in your hand for a long moment before tucking it in a drawer. You’re not ready now, you know that much.

It’s only when you go to take a shower that you realize that you left your date clothes in some other dimension. You lean against the shower wall and laugh until you’re hoarse, even though it’s not that funny. It’d be an excuse to summon Dan at the very least. But not now. You’ve been through a lot and it’s time to focus on yourself for a little while.

**Ending 11 - When You’re Ready**


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapters 8, 13, 14 and 16.

A cool breeze springs up when you step on the silver path, carrying the scent of salt with it. The path is soft underfoot, especially in contrast to the black path, which had stung your feet. You walk the path, constantly getting distracted by the brightness of the sky, which seems even more full of stars than it had before, a shining swirling ocean of light. The hedges that surround the path slowly become overtaken by beach roses as pale as starlight and sea grass that makes a gentle shushing noise as the breeze blows through it. The path you’re on widens, then completely dissolves into silver sand. You’re walking along a beach, the dark water filled with the light of the sea of stars above you. It’s beautiful and makes you feel incredibly lonely all at once. Looking out at the vast expanse of water makes you feel very small, only emphasizes that you’re in a strange place. You look around for any sign that there might be anyone around, a lighthouse, a fishing cottage. There’s nothing, just you and the water.

You walk for a little while longer before sitting down on the soft sand with a sigh, then laying down and looking at the stars above you. You should get up, turn around and go back to the paths, see if you can find someone to help you. You’re just so tired though. You yawn, feeling your eyes close. You’ll get up. In a minute. The sand is so soft, so comfortable. You roll over, pulling the blanket tighter around you. Blanket…. What?

You sit up in bed, blinking in the familiar near darkness of your bedroom, the streetlight outside the only illumination. Your vision is a hazy, your head gently throbbing, and you rub at your face as if that could wipe the bleariness away. It takes you a minute to shake off the dream, remember where you are. You had gone on an awful date, then come home and had a long hot bath and gone to bed. Had there been wine? That would explain the headache. You look over at the nightstand and yes, there was a empty bottle of wine there. You have the nagging feeling that it wasn’t there until you thought about it, but no, you’re just still half asleep, that’s all.

Your mouth is dry and tastes kinda gross. You make a face, getting out of bed, wincing when your aching feet hit the floor. You’re never wearing those awful high heels again, no matter how sexy they make you look. You walk down the hall towards the kitchen, flicking on the hallway light and shutting your eyes against the sudden bright light… except the hallway remains dark. Did the bulb burn out?

You find your way to the kitchen without bumping into too many things, and hit the switch for the kitchen light, cursing when it remains dark. Power failure. Great, just great. You fish a glass out of the cupboard and turn on the faucet, cold water rushing over your hand. You fill your glass and take a drink, then frown. If the power is out, the water shouldn’t be working.

The faucet makes a kind of clunking sound and the water stops abruptly.

Something is wrong. You grope under the kitchen sink for the flashlight you keep for emergencies and thumb on the switch. For a second there is a weak little glow, then the light goes out. You whack the flashlight against your palm, as if that will help. You’re shaking. Distantly you hear the water start pouring from the kitchen faucet again, overflowing the sink and running over your bare feet.

Laughter in the darkness, laughter all around you. You know that laugh.

“ ** _I got tired of waiting for you to come back_**.” Dark’s voice is everywhere, surrounding you. “ ** _Tired of giving you choices. It’s time to come home._** ”

You wade through the dark water which is up to your knees now, trying desperately to get to your front door. If you can just get to the door everything will be all right somehow.

Something grabs your ankle, pulling you down into the dark, into the water, the taste of salt and starlight filling your mouth—

You wake up choking and gasping, disoriented. Above you shines a sky filled with stars, and it’s moving. No, you’re the one that’s moving. Another wave washes over you and you spend a few seconds coughing and blinking stinging water from your eyes before you see what’s dragging you into the surf. It’s an amalgamation of every fish that has ever swam in the darkest depths of the ocean, all spines and blind white eyes and blue green purple bioluminescent spots. A large black tail slaps in the sand and surf, the noise somehow obscene. The thing has a scaly appendage wrapped around your ankle and it pulls you closer to its gaping hole of a mouth where rings of teeth shine in the starlight.

You scream, frantically trying to crawl backwards, kicking out with your free leg, aiming for one of the things many eyes. Something squishes under your foot and the thing keens, an echoing sound that hurts not only your ears, but digs into your brain, making you want to curl up into a ball or burrow under the sand to get away from the sound. You move another foot closer to the gaping razor maw.

You are *not* going to die here, in a strange world under strange stars. You refuse. Fear and adrenaline and anger lend you strength as you kick again, much harder this time. The thing makes another awful sound but it lets you go, and that’s the important part. You scramble backwards on the sand before getting to your feet and flat out running back the way you came. You barely even notice the sand narrowing into a path once more, and you only stop moving when you’re back at an intersection of paths again.

_Take the rose path? Go to Chapter 22_

_Take the blue path? Go to Chapter 29_

_Take the green path? Go to Chapter 31_


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 8, 13, 14, 16 and 30.

Everything changes as soon as you step on the green path. The sky overhead changes to a deep black, though you can barely see the color of the sky at all between the swirls of stars. The warm air makes you think of early summer nights, and the breeze carries the far away smells of both salt and woodsmoke. The path underneath your feet is as soft and lush as grass, and you’re not entirely surprised when the walls of hedges fall away and you’re walking through a moonlit field, then up a steep grassy hill. You glance back over your shoulder to see where you’ve been.

There’s a certain fantasy movie you’re reminded of immediately, except what you’re staring at isn’t a matte painting. The labyrinth stretches across the horizon, vast as a city, and you’re not even sure you’re seeing it all. There’s a light that makes you think of sunrise near what could possibly be the center, but that’s the only landmark you can see. The sky above the labyrinth is all the colors of dusk, moving and shifting, except for one corner, which is static and dark, part of the labyrinth yet somehow not. That’s where you came from, you realize, and you shiver.

It’s another few minutes before you crest the top of the hill and see what looks to be a huge outdoor market spread out before you, the space filled with tents and stalls and more people than you’ve seen in this strange place so far. There are torches ringing the part of the market you can see, and small bonfires burning within.

You’re surprised to realize that you’ve been here before, that you recognize this place from dreams. Over there is the apple orchard filled with dead trees, and the caravan of the Maker of Masks, each wooden or leather face a different life to try on. You’ve walked past the market guards, with their flaming wings and burning eyes, rummaged through old dreams at the lost and found. You thought it was only a dream place, but here you are, in the flesh, staring at it with your own two eyes.

You walk past the guards, who don’t spare a glance at you, instead staring past you, back the way you came. You wonder briefly if you should tell them you’re lost, but you don’t. Honestly, they scare you, with their burning stares and near blank expressions. Instead you just keep walking into the market proper, eyes wide open and mouth shut. There’s a lot to look at, so much that it would probably take days to get through it all, and that’s just the stalls and tents. You quickly begin to feel overwhelmed as you wander the stalls, browsing silks and salts, birds and flowers, jewelry and leather. You’re in no danger of buying anything, you’re not even sure what the currency is here, if there is one. Sometimes goods seem to be exchanged for paperback books, or a particularly long handshake, or even a kiss.

Eventually you end up people watching, trying to push down the panic that rises out of your stomach and into your throat like bile. You look around at people who have seal eyes, the ones who have shark’s teeth. There are people with raven wings and silver claws, and people who seem to be mostly beasts, and people whose form shifts from step to step, ever changing. You’re in a strange place, with strange people, and the majority of them only have a passing resemblance to what you would think of as a “normal” human, and so far you’ve only heard a few people speak anything that sounds even remotely like English. It’s xenophobic, you know that, but you keep looking and listening for someone who sounds and looks like you. Of course, Dark had looked and sounded human, up to a point, and look where trusting him had gotten you.

You sit down on a rock near one of the small bonfires, head in your hands. You’re tired, and you’re scared, and your feet still ache from walking the black path. Is there even a way to get home without Dark? Are you going to have to stay here and get a job or something? Why did you let Dark take you somewhere you couldn’t get home from yourself?

“Hey.” A stranger’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “You okay?”

Your head snaps up, eyes wide. That had been English.

The person standing over you looks human, sharp faced and curious, their only odd feature being eyes that are completely white, the irises clouded over. Hollywood has taught you that eyes like that either means the person is blind, dead, or possessed, and you suppose any of those three could be possible here. They’re wearing a leather jacket that shines strangely in the firelight, and they have a beat up messenger bag slung across one shoulder.

When you don’t answer right away, the person squats down across from you, taking their hands out of their jacket pockets. On the back of their right hand is a tattoo of a maze inside a compass rose, on their left hand is a tattoo of a spiderweb filled with stars.

“Are you okay?” They ask again, this time their fingers moving in what you assume is sign language as they speak.

You’re not sure why this causes you to start crying. You’re tired and scared and feeling completely overwhelmed, that’s all you know, and now you’re embarrassed because you’re crying in front of a complete stranger.

“That sounds like a no,” you hear them say. “Ummmm. Crap. Where is—?” A few seconds later something is thrust into your hand. It’s a packet of Kleenex, so perfectly ordinary and mundane that you want to hug it. Instead you trail off into embarrassed sniffles as you start mopping at your face, apologizing profusely as you do so.

“No worries,” they say dismissively. “I remember what it was like to cry. It’s a thing you stop doing once you’ve been dead, did you know that? Don’t ask me how that works. I mean, I came back to life and I still need to do things like eat and sleep and whatever, but crying? Doesn’t happen.” They rest their elbows on their knees, perfectly balanced.

You latch onto one word that they said, repeating it as a question.

“Funny thing.” They hold up their right hand, tapping the maze tattoo. No, not a maze, you realize, a labyrinth, you know the difference. “Some gods choose you for life. The God Who Walks the Paths of the Living, the Dreaming, and the Dead doesn’t believe the job is done once you die. The Walking God thinks dying is just the start. So I was dead. And now I’m not. I’m kind of getting ahead of myself though, trading stories before we even trade names.” They stick out their hand. “My name’s Gabriel, no miss or sir, I’m not either of those, and no last name, just Gabriel.” They say that whole sentence with an air of someone who has had to explain something so many times that it’s just habit, like saying your last name and automatically spelling it out because people always get it wrong.

You introduce yourself. Their handshake is quick and firm, their skin just a touch on the chilly side.

“Pleased to meet you. So what brings you to the Market at the Crossroads? I know the place pretty well, maybe there’s something I can help you find.”

You didn’t know the market had a name. You still don’t even know where you are, and when you tell Gabriel this they just nod.

“Ohhh, okay, you wandered in from elsewhere, no wonder you’re freaking out a little. So this—“ they gesture widely at the market with one hand, “is the Market at the Crossroads, or the Night Market, or the Market of Dreams, or one of a hundred other names, depending on where you’re from. As far as markets go, it’s safer than the Goblin Market and larger than the Floating Market, and easier to get to. As for where we are, well there’s a lot of names for that too. I just noticed you’re not wearing shoes. Would you like some shoes? I can make you some.”

Your brain takes a second to recover from the mental whiplash of the topic change. You don’t want to be a bother, but shoes would be nice, and you’d feel just a little less vulnerable with something on your feet. You’re wondering if you misheard them though, because you don’t know anyone who can just _make_ shoes.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Did a favor for the Weaver of Stars once, She gave me certain gifts in return. I mean, I can’t make anything fancy, I haven’t learned how to do anything fancy yet.” Gabriel looks around. “Not a lot to work with. Well, firelight and shadows will do.”

You don’t know what you were expecting, though at this point you can hardly be surprised by anything. You watch Gabriel reach up with their left hand and make a sort of plucking, twisting gesture in the air. You watch the light from the fire and the shadows it casts twist and warp, spinning itself into thread and twining around Gabriel’s fingers. Gabriel starts working at the thread with both hands with movements that look half like finger weaving and half like an elaborate cat’s cradle.

“So I was saying, the world we’re on has a lot of names too. Most people call it the Land of Dreams, which sounds so very simple and both describes the place and doesn’t do it justice even a little. The locals and anyone who knows anything about the place call it Hypnagogia, which both is a fun word to say and is a little more descriptive overall. It’s a world between worlds, just like that state between asleep and awake. It’s where dreams go after you dream them and also after you lose them and also when they die. Abandoned ideas end up here too, lost beliefs, forgotten gods. Anything people can think of can end up here, and even the intangible might be given shape and form and life. Here, try these on.”

You blink. Gabriel is holding out a pair of red orange slippers that glow and shift colors just like the fire in front of you does. You literally watched them be made in a matter of minutes and you still can’t believe it. You reach for them, almost expecting them to burn your fingers. Instead they feel like silk. You lift your right foot, brushing off dirt and a bit of sand from the black path, winching as you do so. You put on the slippers, which fit perfectly and warm your feet, making them ache less, thank Gabriel as you do so.

“You were on the black path.”

There’s something in Gabriel’s voice that makes you look up. They’re staring back at you, head slightly tilted. “You’re not any flavor of sex demon, I can tell them from a mile away even if their auras don’t work on me. You’re not the wandering dead, and even though you smell a little like the Void, you’re aren’t any sort of nightmare. You’re as human as, well, I’d say the next person, but there’ s some who’d argue that once you’ve been dead and come back, you stop being human.” They shrug. “That’s neither here nor there though. It’s just curious, because most humans don’t find their way to the labyrinth, and they most certainly tend to stay away from the black path. So how did you get all the way out there?”

Your stomach growls before you can answer. You had barely had dinner during that date that seemed like a lifetime ago, and a lot has happened since then.

Gabriel smiles. “Fair enough. I’ll trade you dinner for your story. Sound good?”

Gabriel helps you to your feet when you say yes, and together you walk through the market and into what looks to be the only permanent structure, a wooden tavern that looks like something out of a fantasy movie. You’re not surprised when it’s bigger on the inside. The bartender is a man with a scruffy looking head of orange-red hair and a beard to match, and his yellow eyes light up when they see Gabriel. The two of them talk for a few minutes in a language that you are pretty sure is Japanese before Gabriel reaches into their messenger bag and begins pulling out several paperbacks, fanning them out on the bar like playing cards. The bartender considers, chooses three, and Gabriel puts the rest away. As the bartender turns away you see that he has a large bushy tail, like a fox.

“I ordered for you, I hope you don’t mind,” Gabriel says as they lead you to a table in a relatively quiet corner. “You can get just about any food you’ve dreamt of here. It can be a little overwhelming, and you look like you’ve been through a lot tonight without having to navigate an infinite menu.”

You don’t mind at all, though you do ask if Gabriel had just paid for their meal with books.

“Oh that’s right, you wouldn’t know. Stories are like, a universal currency here, everyone accepts them. If you’re not a storyteller of some flavor you can get by on used books, and if you can get a merchant hooked on a book series, you’re pretty much set.” Gabriel gestures towards their leather jacket. “Cost me an out of print twelve book supernatural romance series, which is pretty inexpensive for Nightmare leather, all things considered. It was either that or two months worth of dreams I hadn’t dreamt yet, but I don’t like the blank feeling that leaves in my brain.”

You’d ask more questions but that’s when the food arrives. Within moments you’re looking down at a very large bowl of some sort of thick noodle soup loaded with vegetables while Gabriel pours tea from a cast iron teapot. The tea smells like whiskey and woodsmoke, mixing with the steam rising off the soup, which smells like curry and ginger. You take a hesitant spoonful of soup, the flavors singing in your mouth, and it’s all you can do not to drain the entire bowl in five seconds. You recognize all of the flavors and vegetables, sweet potatoes and onions and spinach,but it’s like someone turned up the dial on all of them. You manage not to eat like a starving animal, but it still isn’t long before you’re sitting back with a sigh of contentment and an empty bowl in front of you.

“Intense, right? Dream food will practically ruin you for the mundane kind, but I like to indulge once in a while.” Gabriel takes a sip of tea from a small cast iron cup, their own empty bowl moved off to the side. “Now then, just how did you get here in the first place?”

The story comes out of you easier than it might have an hour ago, now that you’re fed and in the company of someone who doesn’t feel like a danger to you. Gabriel’s expression doesn’t change from mild curiosity the entire time you’re telling your story, but you do see a muscle in their jaw twitch when you describe Dark. There’s a moment of silence when you finish telling your tale, and that little bit of panic starts to curl in your belly again, because you still don’t know how you’re going to get home, and you say as much.

“Oh getting you home is easy,” Gabriel says with a grin. “The one who Marked me isn’t called the Walking God for nothing. I’m forever escorting people somewhere, both the living and the dead. Glorified taxi, me. Nah, the real question is, do you want me to put a hurt on this Dark fellow?” Gabriel’s hands suddenly flicker with blue purple flames, and there’s a chill in the air that has nothing to do with temperature. “I don’t kill living sentient beings if I can at all help it, taken all sorts of oaths and things. Still, there’s plenty I can do to him that’ll make him think twice before pulling that shit on anyone else.”

You shake your head no, probably more forcefully than you need to. You don’t want Gabriel possibly putting themself in harm’s way just for your sake. At least, you tell yourself that’s the only reason.

The flames go out and Gabriel runs a hand through their short auburn hair. “Fair enough, though he better not show himself around my neck of the universe, that’s all I’m going to say. I can bind him out of your house at least, you wouldn’t have to worry about him just showing up unless you go summoning him again. Hate to bring you home just to have him come back and snatch you or something.”

That’s more than reasonable, you decide, especially since something in Gabriel’s tone suggests that the point is non-negotiable anyway. You thank them, feeling relieved.

“No problem. Let’s get going, shall we? There’s a place outside that’d be best to leave from. I’ll take whatever shortcuts I can get, especially when world walking.”

You both walk outside, back through the market, passing several of the people with the burning wings and eyes as you do so, Gabriel stopping for a few steps every time to take a closer look at them. After the third time this happens you decide to ask about it.

“Oh, ah, well…” Gabriel rubs at their eyes briefly. “The gods where you live, they the hands off types? Maybe some people don’t even believe in them?”

You could get into a long discussion about that, but you just nod.

“Must be nice, the luxury of not believing. Not that I regret being Marked,” Gabriel says quickly. “But you noticed we get Marked, not ‘asked.’ Not that I would have said no, getting my Mark made it a little easier to get out of the situation I was in at the time. And the power of the Walking God isn’t as hard on a body as some god’s powers are. I mean, there’s the whole not staying dead thing, and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep and woken up half a world away staring at a corpse, sleepwalking is hardly the term for it.

“My sister, she was Marked by the Lady of the Ever Risen Flame, and that’s an honor and a curse all wrapped up nice and neat. The Lady gives you power, all the power you need to burn away all manner of Nightmares and abominations from between worlds, power enough to come back after you’re dead even. We call them Phoenixes, the ones that get Marked, because they keep rising from the ashes. All that power though, it burns the wielder after a while, us humans with our fragile mortal minds and bodies. Those who get Marked by the Burning Lady have maybe ten years before the power burns their memories away completely, leaving them empty of anything except their desire to protect people. Most of them leave their own world behind entirely, go off fighting things in the Void, or wind up here, where a lot of lost things seem to find themselves. Anything I’ve ever heard or read says that Phoenixes don’t remember anything from their old lives, but I can’t help looking for my sister anyway, even if she doesn’t remember me.”

You put a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, offering kind words, and they just smile weakly at you.

“Thanks for listening to me. I don’t usually talk this much. Then again, I don’t usually have anyone to talk to, except myself and the dead, and most of the dead aren’t really chatty. Ah, here we are.”

You’ve stopped at the intersection of two market paths, and nothing about it seems extraordinary to you. Gabriel seems pleased though.

“It’s always easier to cross between worlds at a crossroads, or on the night of a half moon, or a place where the ocean meets the sea or light meets dark. Every shortcut helps, spend too much time in the Void and you can attract things you’d rather not have the attention of.”

Something stirs in the back of your mind as Gabriel reaches for your hand, but when you try to focus on it all you’re left with is a mild feeling of dread.

“Just hold on tight. You might want to close your eyes. Don’t worry, I’ve got you. May the God guide our feet and guard our path.” Gabriel takes a step forward, pulling you with them.

For a moment all you can see is darkness, all you can feel is Gabriel’s hand in your own. You don’t even have enough time to panic before your feet sink into the grass of your own front yard, your house in front of you, familiar moon and scattering of stars above you.

“This your place?” Gabriel grins widely when you nod. “Ha, never gotten it wrong yet.”

You realize suddenly that your front door is locked, and it’s not like you took your keys with you what seems like forever ago, when you left with Dark,

“Oh that’s easy. It’s not just worlds I can walk.” Gabriel looks in your front window for a second before vanishing, then there’s the sound of your front door opening. Your kitchen looks horribly mundane after where you’ve just been, the colors seeming dull and muted in the electric light. Gabriel looks around, the fingers of their left hand twitching as if plucking at invisible threads.

“No finesse on this one,” Gabriel mutters. “Just bullied his way on. Well, no matter. You have a summoning name for this one, yeah?”

You don’t want to say it out loud, just in case Dark takes it as an invitation. Instead you find the notes with Dark’s name in them and hand them to Gabriel, who looks thoughtfully at them for a long moment before handing them back to you.

“All right, now let’s see. Turn off that light for me, if you would?”

With the light off, the only thing illuminating the kitchen is faint moonlight, and Gabriel nods. “Moonlight is good for a base.” You watch their fingers work in the air, silver light following them. “Something from you would help.”

You’re afraid Gabriel is going to ask for blood or hair or something.

“Can you sing? Or hum?”

You’re too shy to sing in front of people you barely know, but humming you can manage. You don’t see anything happen, but Gabriel nods in approval as their fingers move faster, as they whisper something you can’t quite hear. You feel the hair on your arms stand up as some tension in the room seems to build, and when Gabriel stops speaking and drops their hands, you sigh in relief.

“There we go.” Gabriel flips the kitchen light back on. “That should last you a long time, if you don’t go summoning him.” They nod at the paper in your hands. “If I was you, I’d tear those up, go to bed, and pretend this whole thing was just a dream.” They shrug. “You’re not me though, and I can’t walk your path for you, as the saying goes.”

You thank them, and ask if there’s anything you can do to repay them. Gabriel smiles. “Got any books you don’t need anymore?”

Some time later you’re alone, Gabriel having left with a bag full of books and a few snacks from the cupboard. You’re still holding the notes with Dark’s name on them. You could tear them up. You could set them on fire and dance around the ashes.

You put them in the junk drawer of your kitchen and go to bed.

It’s almost easy to convince yourself it was all a dream. After all, it had taken place in a world of dreams, hadn’t it? You go through your day to day routine and try not to think about how lonely you feel. After awhile, you stop jumping at shadows. Eventually, you start dating again, though you have little luck on that front. After a particularly bad date one night you find yourself sitting at the kitchen table, head in your hands, and thinking about the notes in the drawer. You could summon Dark. It would be easy. So easy. No one else seems to want you, but he still would. Right?

_Don’t summon Dark? Go to Chapter 32_

_Summon Dark? Go to Chapter 33_


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 31

Years later, when your partner is helping you move out of your house, they find the papers with Dark’s name on them. You take the papers out of their hand with a forced laugh, saying something about old notes for a roleplaying game, rip the papers into shreds, and then toss them in the recycling bin before kissing your partner on the cheek. You have someone who loves you for everything that you are, and would never ever hurt you.

The first night in your new home together, you wake up in the middle of the night with your heart pounding, convinced you’re being watched, swearing you smell cloves. When you flip on the light in a panic you don’t see anyone though, and you tell your partner you just had a bad dream. They turn out the lights and hold you close. You stare at the shadows on the wall for what seems like hours, but they don’t move. With a sigh of relief and contentment, you fall asleep.

**Ending 12 - Better Safe Than Sorry**


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued from Chapter 31

You know it’s a bad idea even as you start writing runes in spices on the floor. This is like calling your ex while drunk at 2 a.m., but you’re not drunk and your ex is a sex demon. Still, you say his name, your voice shaking, your heart banging away in your chest. You wait. And wait. And wait.

He’s not coming. Maybe you did the ritual wrong. Maybe something happened to him. Maybe he’s just doesn’t want to see you. Can a sex demon refuse to be summoned?

You don’t know why you’re crying. You should get up, clean up this mess, and just move on with your life.

“Didn’t I tell you that’d you come crawling back to me, on your knees?” Dark’s voice is a rich throaty chuckle from his place near the door. “It took you awhile, but here you are.”

Dark steps closer, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “How about you show me how much you missed me?”

You reach for the zipper on his pants and he laces his fingers in your hair. “That’s my good little slut. And after we’re done here, well, there’s no telling where the night will take you. Where _I’ll_ take you. And this time, I’m not going to let you go. I’m going to take care of you, oh yes.”

You let the words wash over you as you take his cock into your mouth. You notice he didn’t say that he’d take _good_ care of you, but you don’t care anymore. There’s no saving you now, and truly, you’re not sure you want to be saved.

**Ending 13- Better Sorry Than Safe**


End file.
